Lunatic
by Ms. Stella Black
Summary: The Master captures the Doctor's impossible companion in an attempt to lay trap to his rival, but he never expected to fall for the girl named Clara Oswald, and she most certainly would never consider falling for him... right? [The Master x Clara] Reviews are encouraged and well appreciated. Also in French under the name "Fou."
1. Chapter 1

**First, I would like to dedicate this fanfiction of mine to sherlockedbyben, who got me into this crazy, rather wonderful ship with her story, The Impossible Drums. It's pretty great.**

**Next, I would like to thank my fantastic beta reader, LadyLini! You're awesome. :)**

**Disclaimer: If you seriously think I might own Doctor Who, you're crazy. Do I look like Steven Moffat or the BBC? No? Well, you can't see my face, so maybe I am... Spoiler Alert! I'm not. :)**

Clara woke up, feeling groggy, like she'd been hit over the head and dragged somewhere. She opened her eyes and glanced around, bewildered to find herself in what looked liked the TARDIS... except it was different. Remembering how the TARDIS looked different at different times in the Doctor's life, she wondered absentmindedly if the Doctor had gone and changed the desktop. But this wasn't just different... It felt sinister somehow.

With a groan, she brought her hand to her forehead, and memories flooded back to her. It was a Wednesday. She'd been waiting for the Doctor to arrive, standing on the balcony of her apartment, when the door had opened. Expecting the Doctor, she had run towards it, only to be hit over the head with a foreign object. And then she'd woken up here.

Sitting up, she looked towards the unfamiliar console to see a man with white-blonde hair flying the TARDIS with ease as he tapped a four note beat on the side of it, over and over again. He looked strangely familiar, like someone she'd seen on TV years ago... Clara coughed and he glanced over to her, grinning maniacally. A chill ran down her spine, mixed with a feeling she couldn't yet identify. "Ah! You're awake! I wondered how long you'd be asleep," he said to her.

Clara stood up and took a step towards him, but decided to keep her distance, gripping the rail as she stared at him, her arms crossed, "Who the hell are you?"

"They call me..." he spun around in a circle for effect and said the last two words with relish, "The Master."

Clara snorted. "You don't seriously expect me to call you that, do you?"

He tilted his head, wondering why she wasn't more afraid of him. "Errrrrrr yeah. I do actually."

She scoffed. "Fat chance of that. Where's the Doctor and what've you done to the TARDIS?"

The Master laughed mirthlessly. "Don't be silly, little companion! This is my TARDIS, and I've no idea where the Doctor is. That's where you come in!"

Clara quirked an eyebrow, pretending she was just annoyed at being called little. "Watch it, Blondie, I might be short but I can pack a punch."

He smirked. "Whatever," he said, waving off her threat, slightly amused by the surprisingly pretty girl. Not that he'd noticed.

She rolled her eyes, determined not to show the fear that was currently gathering in the pit of her stomach. Wiping her irritatingly sweaty hands on her skirt, she stepped closer and asked carefully, "Why've you kidnapped me? If you wanted to meet the Doctor, you could've just waited for him to show up at my door." Her voice quivered slightly and she coughed in an attempt to cover it up.

The Master looked at her like she was an idiot and heaved a great sigh before explaining, even though he was sort of enjoying showing off his plans. "You silly girl, I'm working on capturing the Doctor, not trying to have a chat over fish and chips."

"Oh," she said simply, feeling dumb for not realizing it sooner, "I'm the bait."

He nodded with a flourishing bow. "Correct! Now go make yourself useful while I figure out which planet to trap our dear friend on." He pointed to an open door that looked to lead down a hallway.

"And how exactly am I supposed to... " Clara put the rest in air quotes, imitating the Master's voice, "Make myself useful?" She glared at him, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from shouting.

He shrugged and looked at her coldly. "I'm hungry. Go find the kitchen and make me something to eat."

Clara breathed out through gritted teeth, not keen on helping the madman regain his strength. Still though, she could make a soufflé while she tried to figure out what the Doctor would do in her situation. She nodded curtly and huffed out the door without looking back. She didn't notice him watch her leave, a strangely curious look in his eyes.

* * *

Wandering through the halls of the unfamiliar TARDIS, the Doctor's companion was having trouble finding the kitchen. And even more trouble not crying. She stuck her chin up, imagining the Doctor finding her missing. She knew he'd be able to find her eventually - Clara had faith in the Doctor's abilities. She just hoped he'd be able to do it without falling into the Master's traps. She scoffed to herself. What kind of maniac went by the name of "The Master?" He was obviously another Time Lord, like the Doctor... But how had he escaped Gallifrey's time-locked pocket universe? Or had he even been trapped there in the first place?

Clara racked her brains, trying to remember if the Doctor had ever mentioned this man who obviously had some sort of score to settle. She stopped for a moment and leaned against the wall, shutting her eyes. If she concentrated hard enough, she could pull up memories from her echoes, tucked away in the corners of her brain. The ordeal always gave her a headache, but if any of her echoes had run across this guy, it'd be worth the pain.

She sighed after a few minutes of searching, holding a hand to her forehead and wishing she had an aspirin. No luck. Determined to try again later, she set off again in her other search -the pursuit of the kitchen. "That Master guy better keep eggs and milk on hand," she mumbled under her breath.

About ten minutes and fifteen checked rooms later, Clara flung open the door to an adorably quaint kitchen, one that was quite different from the Doctor's kitchen. She breathed a sigh of relief. "At last," she said, smiling widely. She looked around herself, in awe of the room and its decor. She couldn't help but feel happy in it, even though she knew full well the danger she was in on this TARDIS that wasn't the Doctor's. It surprised her how different, yet strangely similar the two space-craft were... she wondered absentmindedly if the Master's TARDIS would share the same dislike the Doctor's had for her.

Throwing open the refrigerator door, she grinned yet again. It was fully stocked. Pulling out the ingredients she needed, she grabbed a bowl from one of the cabinets lining the wall and set to work on what she hoped would be the best soufflé she'd ever made.

It wasn't.


	2. Chapter 2

The smell of burning sent the Master running. Crashing into the kitchen, he watched the brown-haired girl hitting the burning creation with a towel, trying to put the fire out.

"What-what the hell are you doing?" he asked, flabbergasted, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Putting out a fire!" she yelled back at him. When he didn't move to help, she quickly grabbed the bowl she had used for mixing and tossed it at him. "Fill it with water, you idiot!"

He caught it, too stunned not to obey, and went to fill it in the sink before Clara grabbed it and tossed the water onto the flames, finally putting the fire out. They stood side by side for a moment, staring at the soufflé, which was burnt out of recognition. The Master gaped at her.

"Well," she said softly, "I think that may be my worst one yet."

"Worst one _what_?" he asked, utterly confused by the woman.

"Soufflé!" she told him lightly, smiling a little as she sidestepped him to grab it with her gloves and toss it into the trash.

He quirked an eyebrow. "You were making me a _soufflé_?"

Clara laughed nervously. "Ahhh, no. Not exactly." She pointed at a rather meager looking sandwich sitting on the table. "That, I made for you."

He looked at the sandwich incredulously, then glanced back at her. "You're a lunatic," he breathed, tapping out the four-count beat on the counter.

She snorted, raising an eyebrow. "Speak for yourself."

He gestured to the sandwich. "You expect me to eat that? Just that?" The Master inspected the item - it looked to contain two thin slices of an unknown meat.

"What, did ya expect me to cut off the crust?" she asked with a smirk, looking at him smugly.

"No," he sneered at her, a little too defensively. He took a bite, engulfing half the sandwich, thinking. Lucy had always cut off the crusts for him. He had assumed it was customary. Apparently not...

She watched him chew unsatisfactorily, unable to keep the grin off her face. He was acting like an impetuous child.

"Why's it so damn dry?" he growled at her, yanking open the refrigerator and searching for a drink.

"Because," Clara told him, standing her ground, "Kidnappers don't deserve condiments."

He snorted, laughing into the cold air. She had spunk - he rather liked that. The Master rolled his eyes, grabbing the milk and downing it as Clara watched in horror. She resisted the strong urge to scold him. He turned around and looked at her, lowering the jar from his lips. "What?" he barked.

"You... You know we have things called cups, right?" she asked him a little tentatively.

"Obviously," he said disdainfully, "And your point, silly girl?"

"I have a name, you know," she retorted, not answering his question.

He raised an eyebrow and returned to devouring the rest of the sandwich. "Like I care," he said, his mouth full.

She turned her eyes away from him, not enjoying the view.

He swallowed and walked away slowly, turning back to face her at the door. "I want two more sandwiches, and this time they better have more meat and some mayonnaise," he ordered. The Master rocked back and forth for a moment, considering. "And cut the crusts off," he added as an afterthought, before storming out as dignified as he could.

Clara dissolved into a heap of giggles as soon as he was out of earshot. The man was certifiably insane, she decided, besides the fact that he scared her to death... but he was kinda cute too.

* * *

Clara entered the console room, her chin up. She precariously held a plate with the sandwiches in one hand, and a glass of water in the other. She watched him standing there, pushing buttons and examining the Gallifreyan words that swirled around the monitor. "Ahem," she coughed, alerting the Master to her presence.

He spun around and gave her an annoyed look. "What do you want?" he grumbled.

Clara held up the sandwiches and smirked. "Delivery for psycho kidnapper!" she told him in her most annoying singsong voice.

He glared at her and went to snatch the plate from her. She held it away from him. "Ah, no... What's the magic word?"

"Wha-what?" the Master responded, thinking, "Give it to me or I'll kill you!" He whipped out his laser screwdriver and pointed it at her.

Clara tensed up, but she rolled her eyes, determined not to show any of the fear that threatened to bubble over her calm demeanor. "Actually, the word is 'please,'" she sneered at him, but handed the plate over anyway and took a step back.

"Thanks," he told her sarcastically, before taking a bite.

Clara eyed the device in his other hand. "Is that a sonic?" she asked cautiously, handing him the glass when he reached for it.

He made a face. "No, who do you think I am? Sonic's are stupid. This-" He smirked, flipping the device around. "Is a _laser_ screwdriver. Much more useful."

"How so?" she asked, unable to disguise her curiosity.

He tilted his head, a glint in his eye. "Sonic's are harmless, by and large... Laser devices, on the other hand..." The Master bit his bottom lip and trailed off, watching for her reaction.

"Oh," she said simply, "I see." She faked a smile, and he rolled his eyes.

"Lighten up, woman, I'm not going to use it on you," he told her, then bounced on his toes, thinking aloud, "Not yet any way. The Doctor's not likely to come if he thinks you're dead."

Clara gulped involuntary. "Right..." she intoned, drawing out the word, "And that's supposed to make me feel better how?" She fixed him with a hard look, daring him to try to make it better.

The Master shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich, thinking. "Well," he said as he swallowed, "You're free to move around aren't you?"

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she shrugged, copying his movement. "Suppose so."

"So try to be a little more cheerful. Your moping is annoying," he told her before turning on his heels to return to the console. He'd much preferred the cheeky comments she'd been making earlier. He actually liked them a little more than he cared to admit.

Clara huffed. "Moping? Who's moping?" she called after him.

"Hmmm," the Master intoned, mock speculating, "That would be you. Unless I picked up another one of your insufferable lot by mistake."

She scowled and came up beside him. "Nope! Just me," she told him, throwing on a better face, "The insufferable Clara Oswald."

He glanced at her and grinned. So that was what the girl was called. "Clara Oswald," he breathed, inaudible to the girl beside him.

"Hmmm?" she asked, looking up at him, wondering about the expression on his face.

"Nothing!" he snapped at her, returning to his previous demeanor, "Go to your room, you're distracting me."

Clara coughed, giving him an incredulous look. "Mmmm I'd love too, but I haven't exactly got one on this TARDIS," she said, adding under her breath, "_you blithering idiot._"

He gave an over dramatic sigh, "There's plenty of rooms to pick from. Go find one." He turned away from her, shoeing her out like a cat.

"If you insist," she said, resigned but quite irritated. She watched him for a moment before turning on her heels and leaving the console room, overwhelmed. Back in the kitchen she had thought about trying to sabotage the TARDIS, but had decided not to, considering the fact she had no idea how to do so. Clara carried herself down the corridors, knowing exactly which room she wanted - one she'd run across during her search for the kitchen. One that faintly reminded her of the Doctor.

**Review? Pretty please? (:**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! I really appreciate them. :)**

Sitting alone on her bed, unable to sleep, Clara Oswald couldn't help but give in to the tears she had been fighting all day. She felt hopeless, desperate. What if the Doctor couldn't save her? He'd never failed before, but despite that, Clara couldn't hold off the doubts that swirled in her mind, engulfing her thoughts. All she could think of was him coming so close to succeeding, only to fail. Only to die at the hand of the man who held her prisoner. It terrified her. It terrified her beyond belief.

And so she cried, the sobs far louder than she realized.

The Master lay on his own bed, several doors down. While the reckless Time Lord wouldn't normally have needed much sleep, he'd needed more ever since he'd gotten this body back, ages ago when the Disciples of Saxon revived him. The extra sleep helped stabilize him, he'd realized. He bounced a ball against the ceiling, tapped out drums on the bedpost, even whistled a bit in an attempt to ignore the ruckus down the hall. Unsuccessfully. Heaving a great sigh, the annoyed sociopath got to his feet and made his way to Clara's room, pounding on the door before flinging it open to reveal the distraught girl curled up on her bed, hugging her knees tightly. He bit his lip, the prepared words flooding out of his mind when she looked up at him, her tear stained cheeks shining in the light from the corridor. He sighed lightly, his stomach feeling strange as he tried to remember what he had been going to say.

"What?" she almost shouted at him, anger starting to boil up, "What do you want, you crazy lunatic?"

He swallowed and replied with what looked like ease, his confusing emotions bottled up, "The crying. I can barely hear the drums in my head. It has to stop."

She stared at him defiantly, casting away her curiosity about the drums he had mentioned. "No."

The Master looked at her incredulously. "No? That's your response?"

Clara nodded curtly. "Yup."

"Seriously?"

"That's right."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"Not at all."

"But-but..."

Clara smiled a little, involuntarily amused by her kidnapper. He stood there, gaping at her, like she was the most confusing thing he'd ever seen. She couldn't help it. He made her laugh with his utter bewilderment.

The laughter of course, confused him all the more. "What are you _doing_?" he asked her.

"Sorry," she murmured, trying and failing to quit the giggling. She wondered if the nerves were getting to her.

He looked her, considering. "Are you on your blood thing or something?" the Master asked with all seriousness. Maybe that would explain her strange words and actions. Lucy had sometimes acted strangely when she was on hers...

"My _what_?" she half-shouted at him; laughing so hard she nearly fell off her bed.

The Master shifted uncomfortably and cracked the tiniest smile himself. Perhaps this woman was as insane as he was. Scratching his head, he waited for her to quiet down before speaking, "So I guess this means I win?"

Clara tilted her head at him, sobering up a bit. "How do you mean?"

"You stopped crying. So I win," he told her, grinning triumphantly.

She snorted, biting the inside of her cheek. "Oh really?" she asked him, "I'm not so sure about that."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think so?"

Clara nodded. "I do."

"And why's that?" he asked, slightly curious.

She shrugged and stared at the ceiling for a moment before answering, "Cos I can start crying again at the drop of a hat."

He snorted. "Oh? Let's see it then." The Master fixed her with a steely glare, void of compassion. Even though that exact sentiment stirred beneath his conscious, he wasn't about to acknowledge it, let alone show it.

She bit her lip, perturbed by his request. "I thought you wanted me _not_ to cry," she said slowly.

"That's right," he answered softly.

"But you just said..." she trailed off. The man really was crazy, wasn't he?

The Master rolled his tired eyes. "Whatever. You're not crying anymore, so my job is done." He gave her a brief, sideways smile before stepping back and slamming the door.

Clara stared after him for a moment. "What. The. Hell?" she murmured, sighing as she fell back against her pillow.

It wasn't thirty minutes before she started sobbing again, and the Master made his way to her room again.

"_Really_?" he asked, staring at her painfully. She didn't respond to him – she just kept crying. "I thought you were finished with this," he said softly. He didn't know why he couldn't stand to hear her cry. At first he thought it was just because it kept him awake, but watching her frail, human body quake with whatever emotions were coursing through her veins... It seemed to break something inside of him. What was broken, he couldn't tell.

Sighing, he watched for a few more moments before stepping over the doorway and taking a chair by the wall, sliding it closer, and sitting down. "Please," he pleaded, looking at her desperately. The girl continued to ignore him. He glanced at the ceiling and swallowed before forming his next words tentatively, "I... erm... If you quit crying, I won't kill you..." He watched her, his head tilted to the side.

Clara finally brought her eyes to his and wiped them with the back of her hand. "Really," she said flatly.

He nodded slowly, realizing as he did that he was speaking with complete honesty, "Yeah, I'll uhm, take you home, back to your time after I'm done with my plans."

She snorted, propping herself up on her shoulder. "Your _plans_?" she asked, her voice cracking, anger building up, "Your plans to trap the Doctor and do what exactly? Like you said, it's not like you're interested in just having a cuppa."

The Master sighed, not particularly wanting to answer her question. "You don't understand, Clara. I have to do this."

Sad and tired of fighting, she looked away. "No one's forcing you to do anything. You have a bloody time machine. You wouldn't be doing this if you didn't want to," she mumbled, yawning after she finished speaking.

He stared at her for the longest time, not answering, drumming his fingers against his leg, over and over again. Finally he stood up and made to leave, before turning at the door and glancing back at her sleeping figure. Her eyes were shut, her face, stained with tears... but he couldn't help but notice that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello! I hope you're enjoying my story so far. But something's been bugging me… The Master and Clara are sort of a Beauty and the Beast style tale, at least in my opinion. And I kind of have a love-hate relationship with the whole idea of Beauty and the Beast. On one hand, I love the idea that love can change someone's heart – and I think it certainly can happen. But on the other hand, I feel like it kind of promotes the idea of dating somebody in order to change him or her, which is something that I don't think works and is unfair to both parties. So I'm sort of conflicted about this story I'm writing. I think I can make it fairly realistic-ish with a couple ideas I have, but I'm still afraid it might come across in a way I don't want it too. So tell me – is my worry reasonable, or do you think I'm over thinking this?**

**Anyways, I hope you like chapter 4! (:**

The next morning, Clara woke up with a feeling of peace. She smiled, sinking deeper under the covers and into her pillow. She always loved waking up in the TARDIS, knowing the Doctor was probably tinkering away in the console room, ready to make some cheerful comment about how long humans slept. That or a completely random comment. It varied.

Then she opened her eyes and remembered - this wasn't the Doctor's TARDIS, and this wasn't her regular room, although she did find herself feeling a particular fondness for the latter. It was of a moderate size, and the walls were the same blue that coated the outside of the Doctor's TARDIS. A wardrobe stood opposite the bed, both of which contained Gallifreyan symbols carved into the wood. She wondered what they said, and if it were anything pleasant. One of her first echoes had been a Time Lady, one who worked in the repair shop where the Doctor had stolen his TARDIS, but Clara could barely remember anything about her, except that she had a rare disease that prevented regeneration.

Clara began to sit up, then reconsidered and lay back down. The idea of leaving her current safe haven filled her with dread - even though it wasn't really a safe haven, considering the Master could barge in at any second. But for the moment, she felt all right there. Closing her eyes, she attempted to go back to sleep.

She gave up a few minutes later and got out of bed, making her way to an adjacent bathroom to shower. Standing under the hot water, she closed her eyes and resolved not to cry, telling herself it would be okay. She just had to make it through this. The Doctor would find her. They would be all right - the both of them.

After she finished, Clara found herself wrapped in a towel, staring into the wardrobe. She had examined it the previous night to find it filled with clothes just her size, which had bewildered her at first. But now, as she ran her fingers through the outfits, deciding on a turquoise dress with a brown belt, she decided there was one good thing about the whole ordeal - this TARDIS actually seemed to like her. Plus it had a good taste in clothes...

She ran a comb through her hair before leaving the room. About to go one way, she shook her head and turned the other way, not wanting to run into the Master, whom she assumed would be in the console room. Clara knew she'd have to see him eventually, but for the moment she preferred to stay away. So she walked towards the kitchen, thinking about breakfast and making another soufflé.

The Master was, to Clara's dismay, to be found in the kitchen. He gave her an uncharacteristic grin when she walked through the swinging door. She narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms, leaning against the wall as she watched him tend to a skillet filled with sizzling bacon.

"Morning!" he said cheerfully, cracking a couple eggs into a bowl and whisking them before pouring them on a pan to scramble.

"What are you doing?" she asked slowly, looking at the bacon with interest.

"What does it look like?" he asked, grabbing the English muffins that popped out of the toaster.

"Breakfast?" she responded, cracking the tiniest of smiles.

"Ding! Cor-rect," he announced, scraping the bacon onto a pair of plates alongside the muffins.

"Why?" she asked, taking a seat at the little table situated in the corner of the room.

He shrugged. "Why not?"

Clara didn't answer. Instead, she just watched him cook. He looked different this morning, dressed in a black button-up shirt and matching dress pants - put together, but somewhat informal with the missing tie. He looked handsome. She tried not to notice.

Finishing with the eggs, the Master distributed them to the plates and sat down across from Clara, sliding her a plate. She smiled nervously and took a small bite of the bacon, followed by a larger bite when she realized how delicious it was. They ate in silence for a few minutes, not looking at each other.

Clara finally spoke, "This is amazing."

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm pretty good at this," he complemented himself, smirking at her a little.

She smiled back at him, involuntarily. "Where did you learn? Don't tell me they have culinary class at the Time Lord Academy."

"Actually, it was an elective," he told her, remembering, "Cooking across Time and Space. I could've made a traditional 12th century Trakenite breakfast, but I figured you'd prefer something closer to your own time and place. Besides, I think bacon is one of humanity's greatest inventions, aside from the Teletubbies."

Clara snorted, almost spitting out the eggs she had been eating. "Teletubbies?" she asked, slightly taken aback.

"Yeah," he explained, "Creatures with TVs in their stomachs! Brilliant, eh?"

Clara blinked. "I know what the Teletubbies are... but I wouldn't exactly describe them as brilliant. It's just a kids' show."

"Oh no," he responded, "It's pretty great, actually. You should give it another chance."

She laughed. "Why do you think it's so wonderful?" she inquired.

He raised his eyebrows at her with a serious look. "Televisions. In their stomachs. Didn't you hear me? Evolution at work!"

"You're crazy," she told him, shaking her head as she laughed.

"So? How does that negate my point?" the Master asked her.

She rolled her eyes, still chuckling. "Never mind," she said, deciding to just go with it, "I'm sure I was wrong about the Teletubbies."

He nodded, murmuring through a forkful of eggs, "Mmhm."

She continued eating, watching him curiously. She wondered what made this strange man tick. Some moments he scared her to death, but at others... Clara wasn't sure what to make of him.

Swallowing his last bite, the Master looked up, meeting Clara's eyes. She glanced away, color rising to her cheeks. He snickered, watching her shift awkwardly before meeting his eyes.

"What?" she asked, trying not to smile, completely confused by the faster beat of her heart.

He shook his head, still grinning a little. "Nothing, Oswald," he said, "Don't worry about it."

"Okay..." she trailed off, getting up to take her plate to the sink. Noticing her action, he held up his own plate expectantly. "Thanks," she stated, frowning a little as she took it.

As she rinsed off the plates, the Master got up and moved towards the door. "I'll, erm, be in the console room," he told her, gesturing widely.

"'Kay," she replied, looking over her shoulder and watching him leave, furrowing her brow. Clara turned back to the dishes, pursing her lips and thinking about how awkward and strangely wonderful breakfast had been. Wonderful, not because the Master had been acting nice, or because his opinion on the Teletubbies was hilarious, or because he looked so handsome in that shirt of his... It wasn't because of any of these things. At least that's what she told herself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Guess what I made! The Osdrum ship is pretty small unfortunately, so I thought I should make an easy way to find all the fics (at least that are posted on here) about these two lovely characters! I created a community! If you find/write one that's not on the list, you can add it or ask me to add it (I invited all the Osdrum writers to be staff ****(except for IAmTheTardisKiller, who wrote what I think is just a crack fic like a year ago, but I added it to the list because it's super funny and obviously includes romance between the Master and Clara)****, but if you haven't written any, just ask me and I can add you too).**

** community/Osdrum-The-Master-x-Clara/115191/ (or just click on my name and go to my homepage to find the community tab)  
**

**I'd also like to thank the guest SuperWhoLockLove here since one can't pm guests! Your review made me smile a lot and helped reassure me. Also, I think you should make an account because, even if you don't want to write anything, it makes it a lot easier to keep track of all the fics your reading. Story Alert is like, my best friend.**

The rest of the day passed in a fair amount of peace. After screwing up another soufflé, Clara decided to explore the TARDIS in search of something to fill her time. That's when she found the library. It wasn't nearly as extensive as the Doctor's, but it filled her with awe as soon as she walked through the doors. High pillars with ornate symbols, shelves filled with books, some of which she recognized, most of which she didn't, and several overstuffed chairs and sleek sofas littered the room. It was exquisite. Clara lounged around and read whatever peaked her interest, not pausing for lunch or dinner.

When she finally did realize she was rather hungry, she made her way back to the kitchen, wondering if she'd run into the Master there again. When she didn't, she told herself she was relieved. After a quick meal, she went back to her room with one of the books and read until she fell asleep.

The next day Clara had breakfast alone, but shared a similarly awkward lunch with the Master, although this time they both made their own sandwiches, and he departed before she was finished. She went to the library after, feeling strange, and fell asleep reading...

* * *

Clara was woken by the shaking of the walls around her. Alarmed, she leapt off the sofa and sped down to the console room to see the Master rushing around the console, urgently flipping switches and turning knobs. He was alerted to her presence when the movement of the TARDIS slid her across the room to slam into the railing.

"This bloody thing is supposed to be state of the art!" he informed her, while she brought herself back to her feet.

"Is it now?" she shouted over the din, clinging to the railing for dear life.

"Key words being 'supposed to!'" the Master exclaimed as he was torn away from the controls and slung her direction, nearly smashing into her as she yelped and modified her position.

When the TARDIS came to a standstill, they exchanged relieved smiles before rushing back to the console to check the readings. The Master groaned, muttering under his breath, "Bloody hell..."

"Where've we landed?" Clara asked concernedly. She wasn't too fond of the anger that looked to be building up within him.

He took a moment to answer, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Draconia, 2592. And guess what! We're stuck," he told her, his voice rising as his rage bubbled up.

She took a step back, hoping he wouldn't direct his anger towards her. "Not good?" she squeaked.

He took a deep breath. "No, obviously not," he growled at her condescendingly, starting to pace. More to himself, he muttered, "Can't believe they didn't give me one with adequate power. Bloody idiots."

"Who's 'they?'" Clara put forth, "And why exactly are we stuck?"

He shot her a look of annoyance. "Shut up, I'm thinking," he hissed, rather than answering her question.

Clara sighed and sat down on one of the benches near the console, watching him pace up and down the room.

When he finally quit pacing, he explained the problem to an intrigued Clara. "We're stuck because the TARDIS is drained of power. Her first instinct in that sort of situation is to find the nearest space-time rift to, in Earth terms, refuel. This, unfortunately, was the closest she could find," he told her, pondering. "If I'd realized the problem earlier, I could've refueled in Cardiff when I picked you up. But alas, I didn't think those idiots would give me one that was low on energy."

"And who are these idiots?" Clara asked, narrowing her eyes.

The Master swallowed before answering. "Time Lords," he said briefly.

"But they're..."

He waved it off nonchalantly. "Not important. Anyways, I've got a plan!" he said, clapping his hands and changing the subject.

Clara quirked an eyebrow, waiting for him to tell her.

"You see, the Draconians have a bit of a grudge against me, but they love the Doctor, so I'll tell them I'm him, and he's me!" he informed her with a grin.

She opened her mouth to tell him how dumb his idea was but reconsidered, deciding this could be her best bet at escape. Instead she asked him, "And what did you do to make these Draconian guys hate you?"

He pressed his lips together, almost as if he were embarrassed to be telling Clara this - "Well, I kinda tried to start a war between their empire and Earth's. For them, it was around 50 years ago, so it's probably still fresh on their minds. All about honor, those folks. I doubt they'd pass up a chance to make me pay for it."

Clara scoffed. "Okay... And how do you know the Doctor will come looking for me here? A bit random, isn't it?"

The Master grinned at this comment. "Oh, no worries, Miss Oswald! I've already taken care of that. Left a bit of psychic paper on your dining room table. He should locate it when he arrives at your flat to find you missing. When he looks at it, he'll see our space-time coordinates and coming whizzing over, just in time to fall into my trap!" He looked at her as if expecting applause. He didn't get any.

Clara watched him roll his eyes and check the monitor before speaking. "And what if I refuse to come outside and help you?"

He heaved a great sigh. "Then I'll have to force you. It's better for everyone if you just cooperate," he told her, his tone seemingly mild.

"How would you force me?" she asked him softly, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

The Master gave her a crooked smile and marched over to her. She took a step back, staring into his dark eyes, trying not to show any fear. "I am the Master, and you will obey me," he told her, his voice deep and commanding, "You won't spoil my plans."

Clara breathed out softly, suddenly feeling light-headed. 'Yes, Master,' she thought mildly, but something resisted, and she couldn't say the words.

He laughed and stepped away from her, breaking the spell. "Didn't I tell you? I'm skilled in hypnosis."

She took a deep breath, the fog clearing. "Oh," was all she could say. She made a mental note to ask the Doctor about methods of resisting it.

His eyes were dark as he stared at her, seemingly satisfied with his work, but he couldn't figure out why the thought of keeping her under hypnosis made him cringe. "Just a taste," he warned, dropping the smirk. He cleared his throat and pointed to the door. "Anyway, out we go!" he spoke, a little more lightly this time. She faked a smile and followed him reluctantly into the swampy lawn outside the Draconian palace.

**Reviews make me smile. Would you like to be the cause of a smile lighting my face? (:**


	6. Chapter 6

Clara glanced back at the TARDIS, surprised to see that it had taken the appearance of a sea green pillar. "Huh," she breathed, looking at it in slight wonder.

The Master grinned at her fascination with it. "My TARDIS, unlike the Doctor's old fashioned Type 40, has a working chameleon circuit," he told her with a hint of pride.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled despite herself. "I like the snog box, but this is pretty cool too," she commented.

His eyes went wide for a moment. "The _what_ box?" he asked her, not sure if he'd heard her right.

Clara laughed. "Snog box. It's kind of an inside joke from when I first met the Doctor and he told me to get inside the mysterious blue box sitting outside my house."

He hesitated before speaking. "Do you mean you two are like..." he trailed off, not sure why the thought of it made him feel slightly sick.

She shook her head adamantly. "No, no, no, we're just friends," she explained, bothered by why his question made her jittery - a short while ago she'd realized why her heart had leapt when she ran into him in the kitchen earlier at lunch. A certain fondness was growing; one she wished she could crush more easily. Clara decided not to mention that one of her echoes really _had_ snogged the Doctor, nor the fact she actually had fancied the Doctor for a bit...

"Oh, good," he replied without thinking, feeling relieved for some reason.

"Why good? Why do you care?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

He swallowed and looked away, trying to make up an excuse. "Don't care one bit. Just said it as reflex."

She raised her eyebrows, amused. "It's a reflex for you to be glad about the nonexistence of other people's love lives?"

He decided to just go with it and nodded. "Yup. I know it's strange, just a strange habit of mine, not important," he uttered hurriedly, wanting to get on with his plans.

Clara rolled her eyes. "Alright, whatever you say, weirdo."

The Master sighed and started walking toward the palace, unwilling companion in tow.

They were stopped at the entrance by armed guards. Six months ago, Clara would have stared in shock at their reptilian skin and domed, scaly-sided heads, but traveling with the Doctor had gotten her almost used to seeing different looking people. Almost.

"Greetings! Is it possible for me to have an audience with a higher-up? I know my face is different, but I'm the Doctor, and I have urgent news for the emperor about a certain threat," the Master told them confidently.

Two of the guards discussed the matter in quiet voices before turning to them. "This way," one said shortly, before leading the way. Clara and the Master followed, another guard taking the rear. She tried to speak to the one behind them to give away the Master's plot, but he just grunted in reply.

They were deposited in a room that looked similar to an office, the walls streaked green, just as the hallways were. A Draconian in long robes greeted them with a nod before dismissing the guards. "How did you get here without going through the human embassy?" he asked, not looking pleased to see the two, "And why did we not detect your ship coming into the atmosphere?"

The Master shrugged. "To begin with, I'm not human. I'm a Time Lord named the Doctor. You've probably heard of me. I helped your fifteenth emperor through quite a stitch, and just fifty years ago I helped stop the war another of my kind, the Master, was trying to start. He's the reason we're here, actually," he explained, lying through his teeth. "And my ship's just outside, it's called the TARDIS and travels outside regular time and space."

"He's not! He's lie-" Clara began. The Master faked a coughing fit to cover her words, giving her a dark look.

"Who is the female?" their questioner asked, turning his head to her and ignoring what she was trying to say. "I can get you an audience with the emperor, just make sure she remains silent. Females are not allowed to speak in formal circumstances." Clara gaped at him and opened her mouth, about to defend her rights.

The Master smiled and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to him and giving her the same dark look to keep her from objecting. "My human traveling companion, Claire Oswald. She likes to joke, but she'll stay silent if she knows what's good for her."

Clara gave him a steely glare and nudged him in the ribs, whispering irritably, "It's Clara, you idiot."

He nudged her back and whispered in her ear, "Shhhh, it's close enough, Oswald."

"I hate you," she whispered back, folding her arms. So much for spoiling his plans - if the Draconians didn't want her to speak, they likely wouldn't believe her if she tried.

"No you don't," he replied, smirking a little. She glared at him in response.

"Are you two finished?" the Draconian councilman asked them, watching the quiet exchange with annoyance.

"Yes, quite," assured the Master, dipping his head slightly and letting the other lead the way to the throne room.

Green curtains hung around the large room; elaborate pillars held the building up, and the emperor with his throne sat in the back-center. Clara couldn't help but look around in interest. She watched the councilman kiss the emperor's claw and mutter something before whispering in his ear, she assumed to brief him on the matter at hand.

"Come forward," the emperor told them.

The Master started forward and bowed, kissing the claw as well. "My life at your command," he murmured before straightening up and taking a step back to stand next to Clara as he spoke. She shifted uncomfortably, moving back a little and hoping for the reptilian emperor to glance at her so she could try to give him away - she figured it was worth an effort.

"Thank you for receiving my companion and me. We've received information that the Master is headed this way and seek your aid in capturing him. Likely he will claim that he is in fact me, with some wild excuse to take us away, but I assure you, it is I who is the Doctor. He's a fantastic liar, the Master, and not to be trusted," he confidently informed.

The emperor looked skeptical. He glanced at Clara almost distastefully, and while highly offended, she gave him a meaningful look and carefully mouthed the words, "He's lying! I'm his prisoner."

"You look nothing like the Doctor I met 50 years ago when my father was emperor, and I, prince," he declared.

The Master smiled, and spoke as if he were explaining to a child. "Well you see, the Master and I are Time Lords. When we're about to die, there's this process called regeneration. Every cell in our bodies is changed, so we take a new face. Both my enemy and I have undergone this process several times since we last met. And it's been longer for us than it has for you because we have technology that can travel through time."

The emperor nodded slowly. "Perhaps this is true, but how do I know you are not lying about the Master? Perhaps you are he, working on another scheme to cause chaos."

Clara nodded rigorously; glad he'd figured it out. The Master remained unfazed though. He actually laughed. "Don't be ridiculous."

He rose in anger. "Ridiculous? How dare you accuse the emperor of being ridiculous?"

The Master wavered just slightly. "Apologies. That's not what I meant," he spoke quickly.

"The noble Doctor would never dare speak to an emperor like this. It is clear you are impersonating him," the emperor declared.

"I'm not impersonating him. This regeneration's just a bit shrewder is all! I meant no offense."

"Offense was taken. You are an enemy to both the Draconian and the Human Empire," he told him, taking his seat again.

"No, no, no, no, please. It's just a misunderstanding! I'm not the Master! I'm the Doctor. I helped your fifteenth emperor, remember!" he pleaded, beginning to grow desperate.

Clara fake-coughed. "He's lying!" she mumbled through it, earning a glare from the Master and nothing from the emperor.

"And what exactly did you help him with?"

"A plague! I saved many lives," he declared.

"And what was the plague called?"

The Master swallowed heavily. "It was the, uhm... bubonic plague, right? I mean, no... How can you expect me to recall such a fact after so many years? I have helped so _many_ throughout the universe, the name of one plague escapes me."

He narrowed his eyes, relenting a little. "Perhaps you do have a poor memory and poor manners in your old age. But this hardly counts as proof."

The Master smiled, feeling he might have the upper hand again. "Correct. My manners have deteriorated! But you must believe me! I am a man who has devoted himself to the cause of peace. I simply want to prevent the Master from nearly destroying your empire again."

Clara caught the emperor's eye and shook her head. "Please don't believe him," she mouthed desperately.

He glanced from Clara to the supposed Doctor. The female was annoying, but he realized she was likely mouthing truth. "I seem to remember those words about peace coming from a man who wanted quite the opposite some time ago…" he trailed, now convinced that this was not the Doctor he was dealing with.

The Master went pale. "I… I don't know what you're talking about."

"I do not believe you," was the stoic response.

"I'm speaking the truth!" the Master exclaimed.

The emperor laughed. "You are a poor liar, Master," he told him, "You and your companion will be taken to a cell to await tomorrow evening's transport to the neutral zone for trial. She will likely be released to return to Earth. You on the other hand, face execution by the laws of Draconia."

"Execution?" Clara questioned softly, her heart falling into the pit of her stomach. She looked at the Draconian in horror, and then at the Master, who met her eyes for only a moment, his own eyes unreadable.

He then fixed the emperor with a steely gaze. "I am the Doctor," he said slowly, "Do not be deceived."

Again the emperor laughed at him. "You are a sorry excuse for a hypnotist," he spoke, and then to the guards, "Take them away."

There was little point in resisting the guards who grabbed them roughly by the arms and dragged them down the corridor, but the two struggled a bit anyway, causing them to be gripped even tighter and unnecessarily tossed onto the cold, hard ground of the cell. They watched from the floor as the door was slammed, locking them in to await their fates.


	7. Chapter 7

They sat on opposite sides of the cell, glaring into space, looking at anything in the small room besides each other - which wasn't very much. There was one twin-sized bed, pushed against the wall, along with a toilet and sink in the corner. Clara dreaded the moment she'd need to use the toilet. The Master hadn't given it any thought - apparently Time Lords had larger bladders than humans.

It had been around thirty minutes, but it felt like much longer. Clara finally looked over at her cellmate, sighing. "So when do you think the Doctor's going to show up?" she asked him mildly.

He glanced up at her. "Uhm... Never. Why would he come here?"

"You said you sent him our coordinates on the psychic paper," she reminded him.

"Oh right," he said, chuckling a little, "Yeah... he's not coming. I wasn't planning on sending them until my plans to capture him were finalized. And as you can see, we've run into a bit of trouble concerning them."

Clara groaned. "You _idiot._ He could have gotten us out of here!"

"Yeah, and then he'd have kept me prisoner on his TARDIS. No thank you."

She glared at him. "It's better than getting executed."

"Why are you complaining? They said you'd be fine."

"You're a huge jerk, but no one deserves to be killed! And anyway, my home's almost 600 years in the past. I don't think they've invented time travel yet."

He nodded. "Fair enough, although with all I've done I probably do deserve execution," he pondered.

"What've you done, then?" she asked, almost conversationally.

The Master smiled darkly. "Things that would chill your bones, Oswald. You don't need to know."

"Fine," she said simply.

He watched her for a moment, smirking. "You do realize I'm not about to let myself be executed, right? I have an escape plan."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Really," he said, his eyes glinting, "It has to wait until morning though. It's better if I have a full night's sleep first."

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Just wait and see. All you'll have to do is follow my lead," he informed her.

"Just as long it's non-lethal to our captors," she agreed hesitantly.

He snorted. "I'll, uhm, do my best, but no guarantees."

Clara simply glared at him in response, leaving the Master to resume his steady four-count tap on the floor.

A little while later, after resisting the strange urge to tap along, Clara broke the silence once more. "Why do you that?"

"Do what?" he asked, looking at her with a semblance of innocence.

"The tapping." She imitated him, beating it out on the floor in time to him.

"Oh, right... The drum beat," he trailed, stopping for a moment before resuming it. "I can't help it. I hear it all the time." His eyes looked slightly vacant, like he was remembering something. Before she could speak, he continued in a far off tone. "I used to think they meant something, you know? Turns out they were just the last ditch effort of a man who didn't want to die." He met her eyes, looking rather sad.

Clara bit her lip. "Who?" she asked faintly.

"Rassilon," he spat, the name sounding vile coming off his tongue.

"Ah," she acknowledged, nodding.

"You've heard of him?" He sounded rather surprised.

"Yeah. The Doctor told me about him once. Corrupt founder of Time Lord society, right?"

"Indeed. He wasn't always corrupt, at least according to the history books. 'Course the history books might've been lying..."

"Huh. What happened then? How would a drum beat in your head keep him alive?" she asked.

"It was a summons. On the last day of the Time War, he had it sent back in time through the Untempered Schism so that, at the ripe young age of eight, I would look into it, as all children did before entering the academy, and hear it. It's haunted me all my life, drove me forward. Drove me mad, maybe," he told her, "And then, I think it was Christmas 2009, I, erm, amplified the signal and... Gallifrey was pulled out of the time lock, right above Earth."

Clara cut him off. "Wait, Christmas 2009? I was alive for that. I don't remember seeing a giant planet in the sky," she remarked, some confusion in her eyes.

He laughed, just slightly. "Of course you don't. I suppose the whole planet probably blacked out for a bit, after going back to normal. Maybe not. But UNIT seems to have a good record of covering those kinds of things up."

She nodded. "Suppose so. But what do you mean about the whole planet going back to normal? What happened to us all?"

"You know how I said I amplified the signal?" he asked, smirking a little. She nodded, so he continued, "I hacked an Immortality Gate – this device that can heal entire planets – and turned everybody into me."

"You have got to be kidding me," she uttered incredulously.

"Not in the least."

"Seriously? That sounds utterly impossible."

The Master raised an eyebrow. "You've been traveling with the Doctor. You're currently locked in a cell on a planet run by reptile humanoids. In the future. And you're trying to tell me that something is impossible?"

She blushed, embarrassed. "Fine then. I believe you. What happened next?"

"Rassilon had convinced the Time Lord Council to bring about the Ultimate Sanction - the end of time itself. He didn't want me though, said I was diseased..." he trailed off for a moment, avoiding her eyes. "Anyways, the Doctor figured out how to send them all back - he shot the White-Point Star they'd used to link me with them. I wasn't happy with the Council, to say the least, and got pulled back to Gallifrey when I used my uh..." he glanced down at his hands momentarily, "special powers, you could say, to kill Rassilon. I passed out after, completely drained, and woke up in chains three days later to find out that the Doctor had managed to tuck Gallifrey into a pocket universe."

Clara listened, concern written on her face. "You... you killed Rassilon?" she asked uncertainly.

He gazed at her, almost condescendingly. "Isn't that what I just said? It's not like he hasn't died before. They resurrected him to lead Gallifrey in the Time War. I just hope he's retired to his tomb once and for all."

She nodded. "Yeah, of course. And he was ready to basically murder everyone with the whole Ultimate Sanction thing," she said, trying to rationalize it.

"I suppose so. That's not exactly why I killed him. It was more of a 'I hate you because you shaped my life with these bloody drums that drive me insane' sort of thing," he told her.

She nodded after a moment. "Alright. Guess I can understand your motivation. How'd you get out of the chains then?"

"I struck a deal with them. I lived as a prisoner for quite a few years until they figured out they might be able to escape the pocket universe through a couple cracks in space they engineered. Course they ran into some problems. The cracks were linking different parts of space, not them to the outside. Gallifrey was stuck. They needed... a Doctor, you might say..." He smirked a little.

"And that's where you come in?"

He nodded. "Indeed. They realized they could fit a single TARDIS through, so they wanted somebody to take it, find the Doctor, and ask for his help. It was obviously quite risky and life threatening, so they weren't keen on sending anyone they valued. They said they'd find a way to remove the drums from my head if I agreed to go for them."

Clara furrowed her brow, confused. "If you're trying to ask for the Doctor's help, why are you going through the trouble of luring him into a trap? You could've just asked him. He'd be thrilled to help. You should have seen how happy he was when he realized he'd saved Gallifrey instead of destroyed it!"

The Master gave her a wry smile. "Exactly. He would be all too willing to bring Gallifrey and the Time Lords back. You see, Oswald, I don't want the Time Lords to return. They don't deserve to. I want to make sure the Doctor can't help them. Ever."

"Even if it means killing him?" she asked, her voice trembling just a little.

He swallowed heavily. "Yes," he said quickly, avoiding her eyes.

She gulped, realizing the gravity of the situation. "But if you just talked to him maybe he would-"

He cut her off, "No."

"But-"

"I'm going to do what I have to do," he uttered, even though he dreaded actually killing the Doctor. He'd come close to it before, but never succeeded. It would be strange, not being able to look forward to shoving his latest Mastery in his former best friend's face...

Clara's crushed look and tear filled eyes brimmed in the corner of his own eyes. He still refused to look at her, until he glimpsed the first tear fall down her cheek. He conceded when he looked at her full on.

"It might not come to that. I'm not sure yet," he said uncertainly.

She wiped her eyes hurriedly. "Okay," she said softly, a certain amount of relief flooding her system. If anyone could convince the Master not to take his life, it would be the Doctor.

"I'll only do it if I have to," he muttered, before he could stop himself.

"You won't," she assured him, smiling just slightly.

He smiled back, briefly. And then he realized why she had been frazzling his systems with her too cute stature and her big brown eyes. The Master glanced away, suddenly angry with himself for opening up to the girl. Angry with himself for feeling something he hadn't felt in centuries. Except maybe briefly, just slightly, for a girl named Lucy Cole when he took her to see the stars. After that she'd changed, turning more and more into a shell of the woman he'd first met. Because of him, of course. He denied having any guilt about what had happened to her, even though she was occasionally present in his nightmares with that miserable, vacant look.

The Master sighed heavily, forcing down the bubbling rage, as he got to his feet. "Quit looking at me," he told her harshly, "Quit questioning me."

She quirked an eyebrow, confused. "What's got your knickers in a twist?" she asked, affronted.

"Nothing. Shut up and leave me alone," he said with venom in his voice. Then more softly, "I need to sleep."

"Fine. Do whatever you want," she responded, feeling rather hurt and confused by his sudden outburst.

"I will!" he exclaimed unreasonably, turning around to lie down on the single cot in the room, facing away from her. He tapped out the drum beat on the railing until he finally fell asleep, leaving Clara to watch him until her own eyes began to droop... then she began to shiver.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So sorry I've neglected to update for like a week and a half! I was super busy with work, and then I was on vacation... I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that it was worth the wait!**

Clara hugged her knees to her chest, but it only got colder. Her teeth chattering, she gazed at the Master, wondering if it would be a good idea to wake him up - she desperately longed for the thin blanket beneath his body, sitting unused on the bed. Considering the mood he'd been in when he fell asleep, she feared he might not be the happiest about being awoken. At last she could stand it no longer, so she got to her feet and nudged him awake.

"What do you want?" he mumbled as he turned over to face her, peering through heavy eyelids.

"C-c-can I have that b-b-blanket?" she asked, her teeth chattering.

He sat up slowly, grabbing it from underneath him before handing it over. She took it gratefully, wrapping herself in it as entirely as possible. "Why are you so cold?" he inquired, a hint of concern noticeable in his voice.

She shrugged, sitting down beside him. "Not sure," she said, still shivering, "You'd think reptiles would keep their rooms a bit warmer."

"You would... maybe they're diverting the power to other things because we're warm blooded and they think you can handle it," he posited.

She nodded. "Guess that makes sense... But why aren't you cold?" Clara nudged him a little.

He pondered for a moment. "I've got two hearts, so my body's able to pump the blood faster than yours, to keep me warm."

She stared at him for a moment, a small smile written on her face. He couldn't help but smile back when their eyes met again. Her heart started to pound in her chest, and she looked away, coughing.

Breathing out softly, the Master didn't take his eyes off of her. She hadn't stopped shivering. "Do you want my jacket too?" he asked before the thought had even finished crossing his mind.

Clara nodded gratefully, and he took it off to give to her. "Thanks," she said, shrugging off the blanket to put the jacket on underneath. It was too large for her - it ended past her thighs and her fingers wiggled just short of the sleeves' end.

The Master chuckled at her figure in the oversized jacket. He tried not to think about how adorable she looked as she sat back down and wrapped herself back in the blanket. They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, almost touching, but not quite. Clara glanced at him, resisting the urge to lay her head on his shoulder.

"You know," he remarked, "It is a bit chilly, after all."

Clara nodded. "I'm still sort of cold, to be honest," she admitted, yawning as she did so.

"You tired?" he asked, sort of amused,

"Yup," she said, shutting her eyes for a millisecond and opening them to see that she'd given in. Her head now rested against his upper arm - she was almost too short to reach his shoulder.

The Master tilted his head to look at her and smiled despite himself. "Me too," he murmured, too tired to fight his feelings. He waited a beat before wrapping an arm around her and swiftly pulling them into a laying position. "Let's just sleep like this. Warmer. Body heat and stuff."

Her head resting on his chest, she sighed softly. "Okay," she mumbled. Clara shut her eyes and was soon lulled to sleep by the twin beat of the Master's hearts. He followed not long after, almost disturbed by the strange sense of peace he felt.

* * *

She awoke to the same soft, slow beat of the Time Lord's hearts. Keeping her eyes shut, she couldn't decide whether or not to get up. On the one hand, she was in the arms of possibly the most dangerous man she had ever met. On the other, she'd never felt safer than she did for the moment. It was a contradictory sort of mood. His right arm was wrapped around the crook of her waist, while his left hand had somehow found hers in the night, covering it as it rested on his stomach. Clara decided to stay; at least until the Master awoke - then she could pretend to wake up at the same time and avoid as much awkwardness as possible.

When the Master woke up, he woke up slowly. He shifted a little, pulling her closer and sighing contentedly. Content. What a strange feeling. It faded though, as he opened his eyes and listened to her breathing. She was awake, and she hadn't moved. Why hadn't she moved? He took notice of the drums again and sat up abruptly, causing Clara to clatter to the floor with a shriek.

"What'd you do that for?" he asked, looking down at her annoyed expression.

"You're the one who knocked me over!" she exclaimed indignantly, getting up, straightening her skirt, and running a hand through her hair. "Wish I had a comb," she complained, more to herself than to him.

The Master smirked, amused. He had been referring to her choice to stay wrapped in his arms, not the fall, but he decided at that moment to let it slide. It wasn't as if he hadn't enjoyed waking up so close to her, despite his irritation about having formed these mind-boggling feelings.

Clara sat down on the other end of the bed, putting a good four feet between them. "So," she addressed him, "What's the plan then, now that you've a full night of sleep?"

"Hmmm?" he asked, meeting her eyes.

"Plan. You said you have a plan to get us out. Tell me it," she insisted, suddenly anxious that he'd been lying about having a plan in the first place.

"Oh that! Yeah, I've got it. Electrocute and run." He grinned, holding up his hands as if that explained everything.

Clara groaned and leaned back. "You're insane. You're a full on lunatic! How the hell are we supposed to _electrocute_ them?" she demanded.

"Not we. Me," he explained, holding up his hands again. She was about to protest that his hands didn't explain anything whatsoever when a blue line suddenly shot through his left hand, crackling at his fingertips.

Clara stared, wide eyed. "Right then. Never mind."

He smirked. "Didn't expect that, did you?"

She shook her head. "Not in the least bit. How does that work? Is it a Time Lord thing?" she questioned.

"Thankfully, no. I'm the only one who can do it. Result of a resurrection gone wrong. It drains my energy and can possibly kill me if I do it too often."

"Wait, resurrection?" she asked, "Do you mean regeneration?"

"Nope. I died and refused to regenerate. When some nice followers of mine managed to bring me back, I got a Potion of Death thrown at me," he explained, trying to be as brief as possible.

She stared at him blankly, nodding slowly. "Never knew there was such a thing as a death potion, but alright. Guess I can accept that."

He smiled; glad she hadn't questioned him further on the matter. He wasn't keen on the idea of explaining Lucy and her involvement in the events that transpired after the year that never was.

Clara was about to ask for more details on the electricity in his hands, especially about the risk of death bit, when they heard footsteps coming towards the door. The Master got to his feet and motioned for her to stand behind him.

"Please just knock them out," she begged in a loud whisper, while complying with his request.

"Why?" he hissed, "They want to kill me!"

"They're just guards! They probably have families! You can't just kill them!" she fervently protested.

"Actually I can," he growled, hearing the door unlock, "But I won't," he agreed reluctantly, raising his hands in preparation as it inched open.

**Review? Pretty please? I'd like to know what you think. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Again, so sorry about the wait! I got a job as a receptionist at a car dealership for the last three weeks of summer before I head off to college, so I wasn't able to edit this chapter in time for a Thursday update. But one awesome thing about my job is that I'm allowed to have my iPad with me, so I've been working on this story in between answering the phone and filing papers! I'm currently working on chapter 16, although I've written a bit more than that because I had to rewatch an episode from season two for chapters 15 and 16 (let's just say the Master and Clara will be returning to a familiar place in the Whonierse), so I went ahead and wrote what I think will be chapter 18 ahead of time. :)**

**I also came up with an idea for a story that I might write as my project for next summer - how do you guys feel about reading the heartbreaking story of the Master and Lucy Saxon?**

Just enough to knock them out, he reminded himself, having convinced himself the only reason he was complying to Clara's wishes was that he'd use less energy if he didn't kill them.

The door swung open to reveal a Draconian holding a tray of mushy-looking breakfast. The Master eyed it. "Compliments to the chef!" he exclaimed before shooting forth a small stream of blue electricity. The tray clattered to the ground, along with its bearer.

Clara stared in shock. The Master had already taken off, but he turned around quickly and jogged back. "C'mon!" he shouted, grabbing her hand and dragging her down the hallway, not noticing the large crack that ran across part of it. When they were faced with a pair of guards, he quickly dropped her hand in order to shock them before they could react. This time, Clara followed without being prompted.

They met several more guards and persons of semi-importance before they finally made it to the door to the outside, alarms blaring as they ran for their lives. The Master had trouble aiming backwards, so someone had hit the alert button when his comrade fell to the ground and he was missed by a fraction of an inch.

Clara noticed his skin blink into transparency once, causing her to shriek. He'd simply smirked and opened a door with keys from a fallen guard.

They ran across the lawn, pursued by half a dozen guards who weren't uncomfortable firing, but had luckily missed them so far. The Master fished out the TARDIS key from his pocket and tossed it to Clara, letting her open the door as he took out the closest guards before following her in, slamming the door shut.

He rushed to the console, bringing them into the time vortex before collapsing, breathing heavily and going transparent again for a second. Clara sat down by his side, out of breath herself, but not to the degree he was.

She watched him, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Are you alright?"

"Not really," he responded, his voice strained.

"What can I do?"

His eyes flashed open. "Starving. Get me something to eat," he requested, "A lot of something, please."

Clara nodded and jumped to her feet. "Back in a minute!" She jogged down the stairs and into the hallways. Making it to the kitchen in record time, she threw open the refrigerator as soon as she'd gotten herself some water. It had restocked itself somehow, and a whole chicken (or something that looked like a chicken anyway) sat on the bottom shelf. She pulled it out, hoping it was good cold. She grabbed a fork, knife, and napkin along with the bottle of milk, placing it all on a tray and grabbing a breakfast bar from the cabinet for herself before making her way back to the console room.

She didn't see him anywhere. "Master?" Clara called out tentatively, feeling strange for calling him that. When no answer was heard, she huffed and headed back out to the hall, wondering if he'd gone back to his bedroom. She supposed it had to be close to her own room, so she set off towards that, trying to push away the anxiety in the back of her mind. The whole visible skeleton thing had really freaked her out.

Thankfully, the Master's door was ajar, so Clara had no trouble finding it. She pushed open the door. It was fairly dark, so Clara flipped on a lamp and saw him lying on his king size bed, eyes shut.

"Hey," she said quietly, not sure if he was sleeping. It was strange seeing a Time Lord who slept so much, considering the Doctor's sleeping habits.

He opened his eyes and sat up, smiling at her and the welcoming tray of food. "Heya," he responded, putting a hand to his head. It was pounding with the noise of the drums.

"Still hungry?" she asked softly.

He nodded. "Incredibly. Can-can you bring it over? The drums are killing me."

She brought it over and he took it. Ignoring the silverware, he ripped into it, devouring the meat in under two minutes.

"Wow," she uttered, half in awe and half in disgust.

He drained the milk and looked back at her, grimacing a little. "Can you hear the drums?" he asked almost desperately, even though he knew she couldn't.

She shook her head and went to sit next to him. "No, I can't. I'm sorry."

"It hurts. It's so loud. It bloody hurts," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut so she couldn't see the tears that pricked to them.

Clara bit her lip, grabbing his hand in an attempt to comfort him. At that moment she didn't care that he was her captor. He was in pain, and he needed help. She'd realized today that his demons weren't his fault. It was the bloody Time Lord council, driven to desperation in the throes of war, who put the four beats in his head. Clara swallowed to contain her anger at the injustice of it all, deciding to hold it off until later.

The Master gritted his teeth and squeezed her hand with all his strength, causing her to gasp. He pounded the bed with his other hand, counting out the drums. It was two minutes before he loosened his grip, breathing a little more steadily.

"You okay?" she asked him softly.

It was another half minute before he responded. "Yeah, I think it's passing," he told her, "It's still there of course, but it's quieting down a bit. S'what I get for using my stupid electro-powers."

"Electro-powers," Clara repeated, chuckling as she let go of his hand to brush her hair out of her eyes.

"What else am I supposed to call them?" he asked, jokingly indignant.

She shrugged. "Not sure. Guess it's an alright name," she admitted, "Better than calling yourself 'the Master.'" Clara gazed at him with slight disapproval, although her tone was jovial.

"Shut it, Oswald. It's the name I chose, whether you'll call me it or not," he responded with a grin, poking her in the side.

Giggling, she batted away his hand. "Watch it, Blondie. I'm not _ever_ going to call you that," she insisted.

He rolled his eyes and poked her again. "Your choice, brown hair!"

Clara snorted. "_Brown hair_?" she exclaimed through her laughter.

"You call me Blondie!" he retorted.

She raised her eyebrows, and he burst into laughter as well. When the laughter had finally subsided, they stared at each other with goofy grins, unable to remember why they had been laughing in the first place. The grins slowly fell, and Clara's heart skipped a beat as he leaned closer to her face with a strange look in his eyes...


	10. Chapter 10

Their lips were centimeters apart when the Master shifted his head, turning away at the last second. He coughed and got up, stammering, "I, uhm, sorry... I've got to go do something."

Clara swallowed, watching him leave the room hurriedly. She felt upset, disappointed. Of course it was for the better that they didn't get involved, she told herself as she stood and left for her own room to take a shower. She held back tears, thinking about how damaged he was. She wondered if he were even capable of love. Feelings, obviously, but love? The broken Time Lord was a mystery to her.

-

The Master stood in the cloister room, letting his tears fall. He tried not to think about it often, but ever since he'd discovered the drums' true origin, he'd felt useless and purposeless. He felt inadequate. He felt that no one could truly love a monster like himself, especially not someone like Clara. After all, the last woman who'd purported to love him had shot him in the chest. And he'd deserved it. All he'd ever done was ruin things. His own species despised and used him. He felt too frail to deny all the weakness. So for the first time in a thousand years, he prayed. He prayed to the God beyond time he'd learnt of as a child. He prayed for hope.

-

His hope was to be found in the kitchen about an hour later. She was standing on top of the counter, trying to reach the vanilla extract.

The Master watched from the doorway, his tears dried and his clothes changed. Clara hopped down and turned to see him. She jumped, having been taken by surprise, causing him to chuckle.

"What're you doing?" he asked conversationally, the smirk still on his face.

"Preparing," she answered simply, turning away to grab a whisk and set it by the mixing bowl.

"Preparing for what?" he inquired, opening and reaching inside the jar of flour she'd set aside before flicking her with it.

"Hey!" she exclaimed irritably, although the grin on her face betrayed her.

He just shrugged his shoulders. "Preparing for what?" he reiterated.

"I," she told him, "am making a soufflé."

The Master looked almost horrified. "A soufflé? After what happened the first day you were here?" he asked incredulously.

Clara laughed. "Yes! It's not usually that bad."

"Not usually," he repeated flatly, raising an eyebrow.

"Exactly."

"So how many times have you succeeded?"

"A couple times... Almost." She offered a nervous smile, shifting awkwardly.

"Why are you so obsessed with soufflés?" he asked her curiously.

Her face went rigid. "I... My mum, she... she made the best soufflés. And I never got the chance to ask her how to do it, so..." Clara trailed off, looking melancholy.

"Oh," he said simply, "I, uh, I'm so sorry."

She nodded. "Thanks."

An awkward silence ensued which was broken by the Master's next words, "Do you... want some help?"

"Yeah..." she said with a smile, "I'd love some."

"Can I have a look at the recipe book then?"

Clara bit her lip. "Oh... Well I'm, uh, doing it from memory..."

He tried not to laugh. "Seriously? No wonder you keep messing up!"

"For the record, I've messed up plenty of times with the book right in front of me, so..."

"You're not helping your case," he told her with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. "Granted."

"C'mon," he said, holding out a hand, "Let's go find a cookbook."

A smile lit her face, and she nervously took it. "Okay," she spoke softly.

The Master grinned back and lead her out of the kitchen and down the hall towards the library. Inside, he watched her expectantly to see how she'd react. He hoped she'd love it. When she didn't look amazed, he frowned a little before realizing it.

"You've already been in here, haven't you? This is where you've been spending all your time," he said, looking at her with just a little wonder in his eyes.

She blushed. "Yeah, I have... Is that a problem?"

He shook his head. "Not at all."

Clara grinned. "Good! Now where are the cookbooks in here? I hadn't noticed any."

"I think... over there," he said, pointing down a row of bookshelves Clara hadn't had the chance to peruse. She shrugged and followed him down it. Soon enough, they found the cookbooks and began searching through them for the right recipe.

The Master looked up from his with a slightly frustrated look. "Why are there so many kinds of soufflés? There's corn, blueberry, cheese, carrot, vanilla, chocolate..." he trailed off, flipping the pages of the 2032 French Dessert Book.

Clara laughed, moving closer to peer over his shoulder. She didn't particularly want to make a soufflé like her mother's with him... It was too personal. "Let's try the chocolate. I'm in the mood for chocolate," she proclaimed.

"Chocolate it is," he agreed, shutting the book with his finger in it to save the place of the chocolate one.

"To the kitchen?" she asked with a grin.

"To the kitchen," he responded with confidence.

And off they went to the kitchen to make a chocolate soufflé.

-

"Hey, Clara?" the Master spoke, looking down at the recipe book as he vigorously whisked egg whites.

"Yeah?" she replied, glancing up from folding the yolks into the melted mixture she'd just taken from the stove top.

"Did I say to put three teaspoons or three _table_spoons of flour into that?" He looked over at her, albeit nervously.

"You said teaspoons..." Clara trailed, looking slightly alarmed, "Please don't tell me the recipe calls for tablespoons."

He cringed a little, not sure about the potential of a cooking woman's wrath being unleashed. "Is... is that a problem?"

"Uhm... Yes. I think so, but..." Clara stepped over to glance at the book and shrugged. "Let's just add a little more flour to this and I'll be sure to mix it well."

He quirked his eyebrows. "Didn't you sort of cook the other flour in the pan though? Won't that mess up the consistency?"

"Maybe..." she pondered, scrunching up her nose. "I'm not sure..."

The Master bit his lip, watching her think, himself thinking about how adorable she looked. She didn't notice his stare. If she had, she probably would have blushed profusely.

Reaching a decision, Clara shrugged. "Let's just try it anyway, not having enough flour in the first place might make it worse."

"Mkay," he said, setting down the egg whites and dumping in an additional tablespoon and a half of flour into Clara's mixture. "Is that good?"

She furrowed her eyebrows, intently whisking it. "I sure hope so."

When it looked sufficiently mixed, the Master carefully folded in the egg whites before Clara poured it into a ramekin and slid it into the oven.

"Now what?" the Master asked, glancing at the book, "Do we just wait the twenty-five minutes?"

She nodded. "Yup! And you can't open the oven to check or it'll fall."

"Fall?" he questioned.

"Yeah, soufflés are... temperamental. The top rises in the oven, but it doesn't take much for them to crack and fall," she explained.

"Ah."

She chuckled a little and took a seat at the corner table. He sat opposite her and began drumming his fingers against it. They made meaningless small talk for a little while before falling into silence.

"Do you know what we should do?" he asked all of a sudden, breaking the five minute silence.

"Not trap the Doctor?" she answered hopefully.

He growled, just slightly. "No. Although I was thinking, that can wait. This is a time machine after all..."

Clara smiled, softly saying, "Yeah, you could probably run forever, couldn't you?"

He sniffed. "Maybe not forever, but for a while, yeah."

She bit her lip, grinning. Progress. She supposed that the longer she could keep him running, the more likely it was that he might just give up his plans.

"Anyway!" he continued, "I was thinking what we need is a stereo system for the TARDIS."

"A stereo system?"

"A stereo system!" he repeated, looking excited.

Clara laughed. "The TARDIS doesn't come equipped?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I tried playing music once in the console room and it sounded rubbish."

"Really? The Doctor's TARDIS plays music fine. I'm surprised a later model wouldn't be just as good or better..."

The Master rolled his eyes. "The Doctor has no ear for quality music projection. He never has. One time at Academy we stole a Type 22 TARDIS for the afternoon. He thought the stereo was fine. I, of course, noticed how incredibly inferior it was to the one in our dorm. He actually had the idiocy to tell me that there was barely any difference!"

She smiled, amused by the passion with which he told his story. "You and the Doctor were roommates?" she asked.

"Mhmm. We used to be best friends, y'know."

The surprise on her face was evident. "Really? What happened?"

He shrugged. "We walked down different paths. He wanted to see and possibly help the universe, and I wanted to rule it."

Clara snorted, shaking her head.

"What?"

"What's with your power craze?" she questioned, "It can't seriously make you happy, can it?"

"Why not? It's a magnificent thrill, being the Master of many," he told her.

"Well sure, I can see the immediate thrill of it, but... after a while it would get kind of boring with everything under your command, wouldn't it?"

"Mmm, maybe. But I've never spent enough time in power to find out for sure."

Clara rolled her eyes. "You're incorrigible," she muttered.

"Perhaps, but at least I'm handsome," he responded with a wink, causing Clara to laugh.

She was about to respond when the timer went off, and the Master jumped out of his seat to remove their creation from the oven.

"Oh my..." he intoned, staring into the open oven. Clara came up beside him to take a look. It was... bumpy. Around the edges there were lumps of risen soufflé, followed by craters. Sliding it out, the Master placed the semi-soufflé on the counter, and they watched it immediately deflate.

"Well then," Clara commented, "It's better than a burnt soufflé."

"It might still taste good," he offered, tilting his head to look at it skeptically.

"Wanna find out?" Clara asked, taking out two spoons. He grinned and took his, digging into the mess of a soufflé. She watched him for a moment to make sure he didn't spit it out before trying some herself.

"Not bad," she decided.

"Not bad indeed," he agreed, looking rather joyful. Perhaps there really was more to the universe than ruling it.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Guys, something awesome happened! Okay, two awesome things, actually. One of them really only concerns me, and the other concerns all of you. Firstly, my friend Ian got me John Barrowman's autograph last week! And secondly, this story is being translated to FRENCH! The lovely asked me if she could translate it, and I of course agreed. So if you're interested in reading this in French, make sure to follow me so that you'll get a notification when I start posting it!**

**Also, thank you to everyone who has reviewed! Can you believe that this story has over 50 reviews? It's crazy! Special mention goes to Scoobydoo1021 (who's just started an Osdrum fic titled "The Best in Him") for posting the 50th review! **

The following afternoon, the TARDIS touched down on a unique planet. The Master wasn't quite sure why he'd decided to take a stop there. Partly, he wanted to impress Clara... and partly he just wanted to cause some mischief. What sort of mischief, he hadn't yet decided.

He found Clara in the library, absorbing a book about the Silurians. "Oi!" he exclaimed, catching her attention.

She looked up reluctantly. "Yeah?"

"We've landed! C'mon, you should see this place," he urged her.

Clara raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean we've landed? There wasn't any noise."

The Master rolled his eyes. "The Doctor's a retched driver. He always leaves the breaks on."

Clara laughed, putting down her book, rising to her feet and following him toward the console room. "He does?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Back at Academy he could never pass that bit. I, on the other hand, passed with flying colors."

She snorted. "Of course you did."

"What? You don't believe me?" He widened his eyes in mock shock.

She shrugged, smirking. "Mmmm, I'm not so sure..."

He shook his head, laughing. "Clara dear, I will _show_ you how much of a better driver I am."

She ignored the fact that her heart leapt when he used her first name. "And how are you going to do that?"

This time, the Master shrugged with a smirk. "On average, how often does the Doctor land unsteadily or wind up in the wrong time or place?"

Clara sighed, chuckling slightly. "Alright, I'll give you that. But didn't you say his TARDIS is outdated?"

"That's no excuse. Her navigation may be knacky, but he doesn't have to slam her all over the place. I've flown her before without much of a problem."

"You have? I'd like to hear that story," she commented with interest.

"No," he replied as they stepped into the console room, "You wouldn't, actually."

She rolled her eyes, deciding it better not to question him on the matter. For now. "So where've we landed?"

"Keplar," he told her, smiling. And then looking at her clothes, he swore.

"What?" she asked, alarmed.

"You need a jacket. And stockings. It's sorta windy out there," he told her, looking annoyed.

Clara raised her eyebrows. "Alright. I'll go get some. What's the problem?"

"I don't wanna wait," he whined, sounding like a little kid.

"No worries. I'll change as fast as I can," she laughed, patting him on the shoulder before skipping out of the room.

"You better!" he called after her, grumbling under his breath about having not prepared properly.

The girl who made his hearts beat fast soon returned wearing short boots and red tights under her blue dress, paired with a fleece jacket. The Master swallowed hard and stood back up, grinning a little as he grabbed her hand and dragged her out the door, her laughter echoing.

He dropped her hand rather hurriedly as soon as they were outside. Clara smirked, noticing the slight tinge of red to his cheeks, before looking around in interest. The huge, red sun looked to be setting, making the sky team with reds and oranges, fading to a yellow on the horizon. A steady wind could be felt, whistling through the dark purple grass and greenish-black trees. They stood on the edge of a settlement, looking out into the plains.

"So, what are we doing here?" Clara asked as they walked into the settlement, taking in the scenery.

The Master shrugged. "Thought it might fun. You like fun, right?" He watched for her reaction, almost nervous.

She laughed. "Depends on your definition of fun," she told him with a smirk.

He grabbed her hand daringly, swinging it back and forth as they walked before letting it go, staring in shock at a blue box.

"I thought you said..." Clara trailed, looking at the Master with a glint in her eyes.

"I swear I didn't lure him here," he said truthfully, "It's a complete coincidence." Seeing the door start to open, he grabbed her arm and hurriedly dragged her behind a bush so that they wouldn't be seen.

"Oi!" she exclaimed indignantly, yanking her arm away and peering through the bushes to see the Doctor, dressed in a battered frock coat with a bowl haircut and bow tie, emerge from the TARDIS, followed by a man in a kilt and a girl wearing a khaki jacket with capri pants. Clara breathed a sigh of relief. So he hadn't been lying then.

The Master furrowed his brow. "Who the hell are they?"

She snorted. "You don't recognize the Doctor? He's the one in front."

"Really? I guess I haven't met all his faces then. Which one is that?"

"The second, if memory serves me right. I like this one quite a bit," Clara informed him.

He rolled his eyes. "Of course you do. You'd like all the Doctor's regenerations."

She laughed. "I like some more than others, but yeah, I think I do. So what?"

"You're such an idiot," he told her, but his lips were curled up and she could tell he was kidding.

Shoving him a little, she responded with, "Well, you're a lunatic."

"So what if I am?" he retorted, nudging her back.

Clara just laughed, shaking her head.

The Master paused. "Wait a moment... you travel with the eleventh one, right? And the last time I saw the Doctor he was towards the end of his tenth life. How the hell do you know the bloody second Doctor, let alone the rest of them?"

"I jumped into his time stream about seven months ago," she offered matter-of-factly.

He snorted. "No you didn't. You'd have been ripped to pieces, scattered through the universe..." he trailed off, looking at her smirk, "Oh. How'd you survive?"

"Not quite sure. The Doctor jumped in after me. The next thing I knew, I'd woken up in my room on the TARDIS," Clara told him.

"But that's..."

"Impossible?"

"Yeah."

"I know."

"Weird."

"I know."

"Why'd you jump in the first place?"

"The Great Intelligence went first. Somebody had to fix it."

"Oh."

She cracked a smile, watching him think.

"Anyways, let's to go mess with the Doctor," he suggested, snatching her hand to drag her out of the bushes.

"What? No!" she exclaimed, pulling away her hand.

"Why not?" he asked, mildly confused.

"He can't recognize me!" she protested.

"Why not? He must've seen you a thousand times," he pointed out.

"Just glances. I can't make an impression until he visits the Dalek Asylum."

"Why not?" he questioned.

"We might screw up something important, idiot."

"All the more reason to do it!" he exclaimed emphatically.

She rolled her eyes. "We should just go back to the TARDIS."

He stared at her in annoyance and shook his head. "I'm not even sure why I'm bothering to argue with you."

Clara smiled sweetly. "Please?"

"Nope!" he shouted with a grin, leaving her behind the bush and jogging off to find the Doctor again.

She sighed and ran off after him, nearly catching up, just as the Doctor came into view. He sat on a slightly cracked wooden bench, playing a recorder. His companions were a little ways off, talking to a merchant.

"Ma-you!" she hissed, trying to get his attention.

The Master turned on his heels with a smirk. "What was that you just said?"

Her cheeks were red. "Nothing!" she spoke quickly, "I just said, 'you.'"

He shook his head, pursing his lips. "You were about call me by my name, weren't you?" he asked her slowly.

"Nope! Why do you say that?"

"In less my memory fails me, 'you' doesn't begin with 'ma,' Oswald," he informed her.

"No, of course not. I was, uhm, going to call you 'malignant jerk face,' but I decided not to at the last moment," she made up, even though she knew he wouldn't believe it.

He snorted, quirking an eyebrow. "Sure you were."

Clara just sighed. "Whatever. Let's just go."

"I don't take orders from humans. You can stay back if you like," he told her, beginning to turn around.

Hands on her hips, she stood her ground. "Who says I'm just a human?"

"Your genetic makeup. Don't be an idiot." The Master rolled his eyes.

"Now you just wait for _one moment_. I have been torn apart by time winds and put back together. I got computer know-how _downloaded_. One of my echoes was a Time Lady. Another became a _Dalek_," she informed him, her voice tight, "I'm more than just my genetic makeup, so don't bloody underestimate me."

He relented, just slightly. "Fine. Sorry," he muttered, backing away so she couldn't hit him, "But uhm... I'm still gonna go mess with him. Nothing too big, promise!" And with that, he dashed off.

Clara groaned and raced after him, hearing him exclaim, "Doctor!" just before she jumped, tackling him to the ground.

The Master looked up at her, chuckling. "You certainly are a feisty one, eh?" he said with a wink. She glared at him fiercely. "Fine. You win," he mumbled.

"Pardon, do you need any help?" The Doctor asked, looking down at the fallen couple with a twinkle in his eyes.

Clara rolled off the Master and came to her feet, looking triumphant. "No, sorry, we were just leaving!" she told him hurriedly.

The Master rose and wrapped an arm around Clara's waist to keep her from moving. "Actually, I was wondering-" He was cut off by a swift punch in the ribs. "Clara! Honestly!"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Thought you said I won," she commented.

"Won what?" The Doctor questioned. He looked confused by the strangers. "Wait... don't tell me one of you is a Time Lord… You both look human, but I think I hear three heartbeats."

"I... uhm..." Clara trailed, looking at the Master with worry, "Never heard of a Time Lord!"

"Me neither. She's pregnant!" he made up quickly, pointing at Clara, who inhaled in shock at the explanation.

The Doctor grinned. "Congratulations! Is it a girl or a boy?"

"Girl," Clara replied, just as the Master said, "Boy."

He looked confused for a moment before nodding in understanding. "Oh, I see! The child is both! How pleasant!"

Clara giggled, unable to contain herself. "Uh... Yeah! I'm having a hermaphrodite."

The Master smirked, trying not to laugh himself. "You mean, _we're_ having a hermaphrodite," he corrected.

"Right," she said swallowing, "We're a happy couple, this guy and I!"

The Doctor looked at them both cheerfully. "Well, I'd better be off," he said, glancing to the side, "It seems Jaime and Victoria have moved on without me! I wish you the best of luck!"

"Thanks, bye!" Clara said, waving as he left. She glanced at the Master, just in time to see him dissolve into laughter, falling to the ground. She chuckled, watching him a moment before offering a hand. "C'mon, you've had your fun," she told him sternly, although her smile gave away her own amusement.

He took her hand and pulled himself up, still grinning. "Yeah, I think I enjoyed that. What do you think we should name the kid?" he joked.

"Elvendork, it's unisex," she told him with a smirk, rolling her eyes as they made their way back to the Master's TARDIS, laughing and shoving each other the whole way.


	12. Chapter 12

Over breakfast, the Master brought up the stereo again. "I was thinking we should get it on 21st century Earth. They make excellent sound systems in that era - the Digital Age, I think."

Clara perked up, nearly spitting out her eggs. "21st century? Like, 2013, roundabouts?"

"Yeah, is that year special to you?" he asked, genuinely forgetting he'd taken her from the end of that year.

"Uhm... No, not at all," she lied, a plan quickly forming. "I just know a good electronics shop in London in Canary Wharf."

He grinned. "Perfect! We'll go there."

"Great," she responded shortly, feeling sort of hollow. Clara pushed her plate away, realizing she'd inexplicably lost her appetite.

The Master tilted his head. "Something wrong?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"Nope! Just not hungry anymore," she told him, faking a smile as she stood up. "Call me when we've arrived, kay?"

"Alright," he agreed, not altogether convinced as he watched her leave the room, taking a left towards the library.

* * *

"CLARA!" The Master called out, his voice reverberating through the TARDIS walls. "We're here!"

She jumped up from her chair, tucking her book into a handbag to take with her because, if all went according to plan, Clara Oswald wouldn't be returning to the Master's library.

"Coming!" she shouted back. She'd changed into her favorite outfit in the closet, the turquoise dress she'd worn on her first full day here. Meeting the Master in the hallway, she noticed him inhale slightly as he held out a hand for her to take. Grabbing it, she tried desperately not to think about how nice his hand felt in hers, or how attractive his voice sounded as he chattered about what sort of stereo he wanted.

When they reached the console room, Clara let go of his hand to run it nervously through her hair. "Hey, uhm, do you mind if I go buy some, ah, amenities the TARDIS doesn't provide while you figure out everything for the stereo?"

He quirked an eyebrow, jumping up to the console and typing in a logarithm. "Suppose so, what do you need?"

"Uhm..." she trailed, "you don't want to know."

He narrowed his eyes, taking a card that had popped out of a crevice. "Yeah, I do actually. What is it?"

Clara glanced away. "I need tampons," she quickly said, going a little red.

The Master tilted his head, looking confused. "What's a tampon?"

She snorted. "You don't know what a tampon is?"

"No," he snapped, annoyed that she knew something he didn't, "What is it?"

"Uhm... It's for my period," she said awkwardly.

He looked at her pointedly, evidently still confused.

"Blood thing?" she offered, remembering what he'd called it on her first night there.

He nodded. "Oh. Right then." He swallowed, looking a little embarrassed.

She chuckled, watching him twirl the card in his fingers. "That a credit card for me?" she asked with a grin, holding out a hand and wiggling her fingers.

He handed it over. "Yeah. It's got about a thousand pounds loaded on it. That should be enough, right?"

Clara nodded, inspecting it eagerly. "Oh yeah, plenty."

"Great! Pick up some jelly babies while you're at it," he requested, now leading the way out the door.

She smiled sadly and followed him out onto the streets. Glancing behind her, she grinned at the red phone box. The Master was staring at it too, looking sort of disgruntled.

"What?" she asked, amused.

"She looks too much like the Doctor's TARDIS," he grumbled.

Clara laughed. "I like it."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course you do."

She shrugged with a grin. "C'mon then, the shop's just around the corner," she told him, leading the way. Entering the building, she gasped softly when she saw the date on a calendar situated to just nearly cover the crack in the wall that peaked out from the side – 29 March, 2013. "Well that's just uncanny," she muttered under her breath. It was the day before she'd first met the Doctor. "Stereos are that way, I'm going to look for the loo before heading to the grocery," she informed the Master, pointing toward the back of the store. He nodded and hurried off.

Clara took a deep breath before scouring the store for the woman who'd given her the Doctor's phone number all that time ago. Although it was really tomorrow... She hoped it wouldn't be too hard to get the woman to agree to give her the number again tomorrow as if they hadn't already met. After having walked the store twice, she began to lose hope. Maybe today was her day off, or she had a later shift. The woman had been an employee, hadn't she? Clara couldn't remember. She didn't even know the woman's name. Coming to the front desk, she smiled at the man with the nametag that read 'Manager' on the bottom. "Hello! You don't happen to know if there's a lady who works here about yea height, dark hair and skin, maybe has a habit of giving out really great help lines?"

The man shook his head. "We don't have a policy of giving out phone numbers. We pride ourselves in being able to help our customers in store, with no hassle. Sorry."

Clara bit her lip. "Oh... Guess it was just some lady then. Thanks anyway," she told him, faking a smile before walking out the door, trying not to panic. Sitting down on a bench, she tried to gather her thoughts. So getting the Doctor's number and calling him to come pick her up wasn't going to work after all. She considered taking a cab to UNIT headquarters and asking for asylum until the timeline matched up, but she feared the Master might wreak havoc if she didn't have the Doctor with her to stop him. Standing, she decided just to go to the grocery and pretend that she hadn't been planning to run away.

She hadn't walked ten feet before she saw her. "You!" she exclaimed, running up and embracing the woman, much to her surprise.

"Uhm, hello," she spoke, softly pushing Clara away. "Do I know you?"

"Sorry, uhm, no... But I think you have a phone number I need."

"I do?"

"Yeah, it's the best help line out there, you said, in the universe," Clara paused, correcting herself, "Or you will say. This is gonna sound strange, but could you also give it to me tomorrow, saying those exact words, in that shop over there?" She pointed to the electronics store. "And uhm, I won't know you, so pretend like all this didn't happen."

The woman listened, and a smile grew on her face as she realized what was going on. "Tomorrow, eh? Sounds to me like you've traveled in time."

Clara breathed out a sigh of relief. "Yeah. I sort of got lost and I need my friend to pick me up. You were sort of instrumental in us meeting, giving me that number."

The woman laughed. "Glad I could be of help - will be of help." She was silent for a moment. "So, uh, you're a friend of the Doctor's, I presume? The only other time traveler I know lost his vortex manipulator, so he can't really get you lost in the past."

Clara nodded with a grin. "Yeah. Name's Clara Oswald. Did you used to travel with him?" she asked, offering a hand to shake.

She nodded, smiling reminiscently as she took her hand. "I did indeed. Got trapped in the past one time without the TARDIS myself, but he was there too, so we had to get creative. I had to work in a bloody shop to support him... Oh, and I'm Dr. Martha Jones-Smith."

Clara chuckled. "That sounds like the Doctor. He told me once that he works for UNIT, but honestly I can't see him with a job."

Martha laughed. "Yeah, he's quite useless in some aspects. Although back when I had a job with UNIT, I heard he actually did work for them in the seventies. He was sort of stranded for a while, according to archives."

Clara nodded, smiling a little. "Yeah, I think I knew about that..." she trailed, thinking about a memory from one of her echoes. "Anyways, I'm in a bit of a hurry, so do you mind writing down the number?" She grabbed a pen and a notepad from her handbag and offered it to her.

"Of course," Martha agreed, scribbling down the number.

"Thank you so much," Clara told her profusely, beginning to back away in a rush.

"Any time!" Martha shouted to her back. "I hope we meet again, and not just tomorrow!"

Clara turned on her heels and waved. "Me too!" she called out, before jogging to the nearest phone booth, just across the street from the electronics shop. She didn't see the Master step out the door not two minutes after Martha was out of sight. She didn't see him glance around with a grin on his face and a box in his arms. She didn't see him see her.


	13. Chapter 13

Clara quickly dialed the number, desperately praying he'd pick up, and that the call would go to a time when he knew her.

"Hello?" she heard the Doctor - her Doctor - answer.

"Doctor!" she exclaimed, relieved. "It's Clara. I need you to come pick me up."

There was silence on the line for a moment. "I just dropped you off. What's wrong?" he asked concernedly.

"Uhm... I'm not at my apartment. What adventure did you just drop me off from?"

"The one with UNIT and the zygons and uhm... me," he told her, "Ring a bell?"

Clara nodded, and then remembered he couldn't see her. "Yeah. We've done two things since then for me."

The Doctor cut in. "No spoilers! Just tell me when and where you are so I can get you and drop you off on the day you're supposed to be."

"I need your help with something actually. I'm sort of in trouble," she explained, biting her lip.

"What sort of trouble?" he questioned, the worry evident in his voice.

She gulped. "Well, I've, uhm, been taken… by an old friend of yours."

"An old friend?" he asked, "Like, a friend-friend or an enemy-friend?"

"He calls himself the Master," she told him tentatively.

The Doctor felt his hearts drop to the bottom of his stomach. "What does he want with you? Has he hurt you in any way?" he asked her quickly.

"He's, uhm, trying to trap you. I'm the bait. Except he's sort of put that on hold," she told him, "He's been pretty nice actually. I think he might like me."

"You-you think he might like you? Please don't tell me you feel the same way," the Doctor stammered.

"Well," she drew out, glancing around... and then she saw the Master staring at her from across the street. "Shit," she murmured, her heart dropping to her stomach. He looked so... disappointed. Sad, even. His arms were slack, and the box he held looked like it was about to fall. Then his eyes hardened, and he began to walk away.

"Clara? Clara? Are you alright?" The Doctor asked across the line.

She gulped, making a decision. "Yeah. I'm fine, actually. He's not going to hurt me. Don't worry about it. Forget I called. See you next Wednesday." And with that, she dropped the phone without bothering to hang it up, taking a deep breath before running across the street, catching up with the Master just before he'd reached his TARDIS.

He turned on his heels to face her. "What are you doing?" he asked stiffly.

"I..." Clara trailed, not sure what to say. She looked at him, conflicted.

The Master sucked in a breath, blowing it out slowly. "Just go. I'm not going to come after you. You can leave," he told her, his voice hard and flat.

"But..." She looked at the ground, her eyes starting to fill with tears.

He scowled at her. "Cut the act, Oswald. I know you were calling the Doctor, or UNIT, or Torchwood, or something, and you just came back because you were afraid I'd find you and hurt you, now that I've seen."

She shook her head, her heart racing at a hundred kilometers per hour. "No... That-that's not why I came back."

He sighed, glancing away from her. "I can't believe I'd actually started to trust you," he said softly, trembling just slightly. "Can't believe I cared."

Clara gulped, her eyes going wide. "You cared?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I guess I did. But it's not important. Just go. I know you don't care to stay with me of your own free will."

She swallowed. "That's not true," she said, even though everything in her right mind was telling her to take the opportunity and leave him. He's dangerous. He's a madman. But the ache in her heart said differently, that maybe he wasn't as dangerous and as mad as he once was.

He rolled his eyes. "Of course it is."

"No. It's not," she told him, her voice strong, even though her hands were trembling. "I don't want to go. Not anymore. I changed my mind."

He shook his head, laughing bitterly. "And why the hell would you do that? You have the perfect opportunity to leave. Just take it."

"No."

"Why?" he barked at her.

"Because I bloody care about you, that's why!" she shouted, trying not to come undone.

"You do?" he questioned, his voice cracking.

"Yes," she said softly, realizing just how to true it was.

"Why?" he asked, but this time his voice was quiet.

She shrugged. "Not sure. You're funny. You're troubled. You've got a soul underneath all the rage and lunacy."

"Who says I've got a soul?" he asked. "I'm ruthless. I hurt people, Clara. I'll just end up hurting you too."

She shook her head. "No. Not intentionally, anyway."

"What makes you so sure I won't turn on you?"

Clara thought for a moment. "Faith. Hope. The fact that I've realized that you care too."

"I'm a lunatic, Clara. There's no guarantees with me," he told her, his eyes suddenly moist.

She bit her lip. "Then we'll have to find a way to rid you of your insanity," she said resolutely.

The Master raised an eyebrow. "Really," he said flatly.

She nodded. "Yeah. The Time Lords told you they could remove the drums. If Rassilon gave you the drums by sending them through the Untempered Schism, then maybe looking into it again would get rid of them," she offered hopefully.

He considered the idea. "I don't think so," he told her.

"Isn't it worth a try?" she asked.

"Anything could happen. It might work, but it could also drive me even madder. The drums could get worse," he explained, "And even if it would help, I've no idea what the coordinates are. It should be somewhere close to Gallifrey, on one of its moons maybe, but the Time Lords hid it with the greatest of perception filters to make sure no one except the initiates and chosen professors from the Academy could see it. You have to know its exact coordinates."

"But Gallifrey's in a pocket universe. The moon doesn't have anything to orbit anymore. Maybe the filters have worn off," Clara pointed out.

"Maybe. But there's still a question of whether it would drive me madder," he reminded her.

She sighed. "Yeah, I guess so... The universe is huge though. There has to be something somewhere sometime that could help you."

He smiled, just slightly. "Suppose so."

Clara grabbed his hand. "We can look for it."

A tremor ran through his body, and he squeezed her hand before letting it go. "Okay."

She grinned. "Great. Let's set up your stereo and go."

The Master grinned and gestured for her to open the door. "Let's."

From across the still hanging phone line, the Doctor yelled into the phone, begging Clara to come back. He traced the call's coordinates, but by the time he arrived, they were already gone.

* * *

Once the stereo was connected to the TARDIS systems, the Master stared at the console's computer, trying to figure out what to play. He had about half of Earth's music downloaded, as well as the hits from Raxacoricofallapatorius and Sirius 5.

Clara looked over his shoulder. "Why don't you pick something from 20th century Earth? I love the stuff from the '70's and '80's."

The Master grinned. "Me too, actually," he informed her, clicking on the first song he found in the '80's category. "Hooked on a Feeling" by Blue Swede started playing over the speakers.

When she realized what song it was, Clara almost squealed for joy. The Master watched her jump up and down for a second before extending his arms to her. "Shall we?" She grinned and took his hand, and they danced and laughed around the room, barely slowing down for a moment.

After the song ended, they stood in place for a moment, catching their breaths. A slower song had begun to play, "Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore" by REO Speedwagon, so they switched their hands around before beginning to sway, a little closer together than they'd been before.

The Master looked down at her, and she up at him. "You really are..." he trailed with a glimmer in his eyes, watching her wait for him to finish, "short." And with that, he smirked.

Clara scowled and softly hit him in the chest. "Jerk," she muttered up at him.

He laughed. "It's not really an insult. I've been rather short in several of my regenerations."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure, but you know you just said that to antagonize me and completely ruin the moment."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Moment? What moment?"

Clara bit her lip, glancing around before meeting his eyes again, her heart fluttering. "The song, the slow dancing, the sweet compliment you didn't actually give me..." she trailed off, unsure of what to do next. She certainly knew what she wanted to do, but...

His eyes lit up, and he spun her around in time to the music, bringing her in just a bit closer than she had been. "Oh," he commented, seeming to understand, although Clara wasn't quite sure he did. She realized he did when he spun her the next time and brought her back so that she was pressed against his chest. She could feel his twin hearts thumping through his shirt as he reached a hand up to her hair.

"This the moment you were thinking of?" the Master asked her softly, dipping his head.

"I don't know, is it?" she asked in response, wrapping her arms around his neck, her mouth forming a half smile.

He waited, seemingly unable to move, before closing the distance between them. He kissed her, hesitantly at first. He kissed her, unable to resist smiling against her lips. He kissed her, hardly believing that this girl was in his arms.

Clara pulled away first, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest. Stepping back, she grinned. "Yup. Definitely the moment I was thinking of," she informed him, grinning as she leaned against the console and patted it affectionately. "I hereby dub thee, 'the Snogbox,'" she told it.

The Snogbox, as she was now to be called, vworped softly.

"I think she likes it," the Master decided, coming up to Clara and wrapping an arm around her. "How do you feel about making sure this really is a snogbox?" he asked her, waggling his eyebrows.

Clara giggled. "I'd love that."

And so he kissed her for the second time. Or maybe she kissed him.


	14. Chapter 14

Sitting with crossed legs, knees touching, on the grassy floor of the magnificent garden room, the couple discussed where to start their quest for sanity. Clara held a laptop in front of her, having taken it away from the Master after catching him playing games on it twice, rather than searching the universal internet for anything that could help. He'd pouted, but grudgingly agreed to let her do the typing.

"Why don't we just start by going to a few really good hospitals?" she suggested, having found nothing of use so far. He'd shot down nearly everything that looked close to viable.

"Hospitals have doctors in them," he whined, then quickly added, "Plus they're too sterile."

Clara stared at him, eyebrows raised. "Seriously? That's what you're going with?"

"I don't like them," he grumbled.

"Get over yourself, it's a good idea," she insisted.

He groaned. "Fine. We'll go to a few hospitals," he agreed grudgingly.

"Honestly, I don't know why you're not taking this more seriously," she said with annoyance.

"Maybe it's because I'm crazy," he responded lightly.

"That's the whole reason we're doing this, idiot," she snapped at him.

"Only because you said we should."

She snorted. "You're the one who was afraid of hurting me because of it! I was willing to risk staying with you either way!"

The Master was silent, considering her words. "Right. That's true. I, erm..." he trailed off, his eyes apologetic.

"You're sorry, maybe?" she suggested.

He nodded. "Yeah. I am. I don't know why I was acting like that."

Clara rolled her eyes, smiling half heartedly. "Maybe it's because you're crazy."

"Probably," he agreed, just as they were interrupted by his stomach growling. "Or perhaps I'm just hungry..."

She shut the laptop and folded it under her arm, standing and offering the Master a hand up. "Dinner, then?"

He took her hand and pulled himself up, planting a quick kiss on her lips before responding. "Most definitely."

* * *

After dinner, the two of them returned to the laptop, this time sitting side by side on the sofa in the library. Around three hours later, they'd decided on two hospitals they would definitely check out, the New New York Hospital on New Earth, and the Sisters of the Infinite Schism.

"Let's do the New New York one first," the Master suggested, "Get New Earth out of the way."

Clara poked him in the side. "Shut it, Earth is the place I call home, and I suspect New Earth is fantastic."

He smirked. "I was joking. I've absolutely _nothing_ against Earth."

She rolled her eyes. "Mhmm, sure you don't."

"Honestly, I think I owe a debt to Earth," he quipped.

"And why would that be?" she asked, clearly amused.

"Because without Earth, one of the most beautiful women in the universe would never have been born." He looked at her, eyes twinkling.

Clara blushed, her mouth forming a smile. "Who, me?"

"Nope. Megan Fox, actually," he said in the most sincere voice he could conjure.

She scowled and lightly punched him in the arm, causing him to jump back a little.

"Oi, that hurt!" he told her.

"No it didn't," Clara protested.

"Did too!"

"I barely touched you!"

"Barely," he said, making quotation marks with his fingers.

Clara rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot, and Megan Fox is nowhere near as pretty as I am," she asserted.

The Master laughed. "Of course she's not. I was joking, after all."

"You were?" she asked, her voice small and light.

He leaned over and kissed her soundly but quickly. "Obviously."

Clara laughed. "How do you even know who Megan Fox is in the first place?"

"I watched the Transformers movie once during an extended stay on Earth. I have to say, the ending was extremely disappointing."

Clara wrinkled her nose. "How so?"

He looked at her as if it were obvious. "Optimus Prime and the humans won."

She snorted. "You were rooting for Megatron and the Decepticons?"

"Of course!" he exclaimed. "You weren't?"

She shook her head. "Nope... although I suppose it is like you to root for the antagonist."

His eyes twinkled. "Who could expect less of me?"

"Not I," Clara chimed.

He grinned and moved in for a kiss, but Clara decided to dodge him. Frowning over-dramatically, he poked her in the side, making her laugh. "Quit, we need to work," she told him amusedly.

He sighed and pulled the laptop towards him. "Says here the NNYH closed for a short time in 5,000,000,023 before reopening in 5,000,000,024."

"How come?" Clara asked, peering sideways at the screen.

He shrugged. "Not sure, apparently there was misconduct about. They had to remove the Sisters of Plentitude and get an entirely new staff, but all the extraordinary advancements in medicine they'd made vanished with them."

"Weird," she hummed, "Must've been something bad to have to replace the entire staff."

"My guess is they were conducting illegal experiments," the Master posited.

"Ick," Clara commented with frown,

"You won't be saying 'ick' if one of their advancements can help with the drumming," he pointed out.

She nodded tentatively. "True, but it still feels wrong to take advantage of their wrongdoing."

The Master rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed by her conscience. "It'll be fine, Clara. They're going to be shut down anyways and duly punished."

"True," she assented, "And if it helps even the smallest bit..."

"It'll be worth it," he finished for her, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead.

She smiled. "Right then. How about we arrive, say three months before the closure? That way, we'll steer clear of the closing, but we won't miss any advancements."

"Alright by me," he agreed, putting away the laptop and leaning towards her, "We'll leave in the morning."

"Sounds like a plan," Clara said, inching closer.

"Suppose we've done enough work for the evening, haven't we?" the Master pondered.

"Most definitely," she agreed, their lips nearly touching now.

He grinned in response and closed the distance, kissing her softly.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: So Deep Breath premiered yesterday! I'm watching it with a group of friends tonight at my university (we start classes TOMORROW!), but tell me what you thought about it in your review if you've seen it, because I shan't read any of them before the show. :)**

The Snogbox touched down in the same field the TARDIS would approximately three months later, although she took the form of a giant oak tree rather than a police box. Stepping out, Clara turned back to admire the work of the chameleon circuit.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say this was a genuine tree," she told the Master after he'd shut the door behind him. He hummed in agreement, although she could tell he wasn't nearly as impressed as she. She rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand, swinging it as they walked across the brilliant, apple green grass. "We should have a picnic here," she remarked, glancing around in awe at the city and hill country.

He furrowed his brow. "But we just had breakfast," he reminded her, looking confused.

Clara rolled her eyes and poked him in the side. "I meant later, silly. We could do a late lunch or an early dinner. Or maybe even come back another day."

"Oh. Right then. Guess that'd be fun," he said, even though his face gave away that he didn't find the prospect of a picnic very amusing.

She sighed over-dramatically as they began to walk towards the city. "Alright, no picnic then. But that also means none of my grandmum's famous chocolate chip biscuits..."

"Grandmum's famous chocolate chip biscuits?" the Master repeated, looking intrigued. "Are you better at making them than you are at making soufflés?"

Clara rolled her eyes and grinned. "Yes, much. I've made them dozens of times with ninety-eight percent success rate," she informed him.

"Yes to the picnic then. On another day, because you haven't made the biscuits yet."

She laughed. "It's a date!"

He looked confused. "Wait, what?

"I said, 'It's a date,'" she repeated slowly.

"What do you mean it's a date? That's like saying that it's 23 July, but without saying it's 23 July."

She shocked her head softly. "I meant, like, an event or activity two people who like each other plan and then go to or do for fun," she explained, "Although I guess planning ahead isn't always necessary if it's spontaneous..."

"Oh," he said, thinking, "Right. Now that you've mentioned it, I think I've heard the word used in that manner before... might've even used it myself… so is snogging a date then?"

She snorted. "Uhm... not exactly."

"Why not? It's fun. And I _plan_ to snog you again later. Spontaneously," he told her with a smirk.

"For it to be a date, there has to be talking," she explained, trying not to laugh, "And the activity has to be... Oh, I don't know, something special."

"Are you saying that kissing me isn't special?" the Master asked, putting a hand to his left heart as if he were insulted.

Clara stuck her tongue out at him. "It's not like you're the first guy I've ever kissed."

He coughed. "Suppose not, but I'm obviously better than all the other ones," he boasted.

"Wellllllll," she trailed out, teasing him.

He looked aghast. "Say it isn't true! What could I have possibly done wrong?"

She laughed. "Nothing. We've hardly snogged enough for me to know."

"Well I'm all for snogging more," he declared.

"Well _somebody's_ rather eager," she quipped with a smirk.

"That a bad thing?" he questioned.

"Not necessarily," she told him, pondering, "But it's probably best to move slowly."

He smiled and responded by taking her hand in his and kissing it resolutely. "If that's what you want," he decided, secretly relieved. He didn't want to ruin this mysterious, wonderful thing they had like he'd done with Lucy without even caring. He was terrified of Clara changing her mind and deciding she hated him. The Master had done his best to act confident and sure when he'd kissed her for the first time, but inside he'd been frightened to death she'd meant something entirely different when she was talking about 'the moment,' and would respond by pulling away immediately and slapping him. But she hadn't. It'd exhilarated him, filled him with joy, and made him confident he wanted to keep this impossible girl beside him.

When they walked into the hospital, Clara was surprised to note that the Sisters of Plentitude were cats.

"No wonder they're doing something illegal in pursuit of the greater good," the Master whispered in Clara's ear, "They're _cats_."

Clara tutted and poked him in the side. "Hey! I like cats. Don't criticize them," she muttered back.

"Who said I was criticizing them?" the Master responded seriously. "I like cats too."

She rolled her eyes, chuckling. "Never mind. I should've known."

Looking around the huge, open lobby, she hummed, listening to the voice speaking over the intercom. Some of what it said made sense, but she was completely bewildered by other bits of it. "So, where to from here?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Guess we could ask the front desk which ward handles mental ailments," he suggested.

Clara nodded and dragged him alongside her to address the cat person on the other side of the desk. "How may the sisterhood be of service to you today?" the nun asked kindly, eyeing them.

"We wondering where we could get help for, uhm... maladies of the brain," she asked.

"And which of you is in need of assistance?"

The Master raised his hand awkwardly. "I've got a terrible drumming in my head. Constantly. It makes me sort of..."

"Crazy," Clara finished for him.

The nun smiled. "You poor thing. We should be able to patch you up in no time. I just need your name and identification, and then you can pop up to Ward 27 and wait to be called on."

"Uhm... Harold Saxon," he told her, digging in his pocket and producing a wallet from which he hurriedly grabbed a card, "And my identification."

The feline looked at it, bemused. "This is a library card for somebody called 'the Master," she intoned.

Clara giggled as the Master cringed and grabbed a different card from his wallet and handed it over, this time a piece of psychic paper. "So sorry, Sister," he said as Clara snatched up the library card to examine, "I'm holding that for a friend."

"Alright, your information seems to be in order. There's a waiting room directly off the lift. You shouldn't have to wait for more than twenty minutes," she told him, smiling graciously and sending them off. The Master stood there for a moment, staring at a thin crack on the edge of the desk. He looked concerned, but the next moment he shook his head and turned around, figuring it was nothing.

Clara was still giggling at the library card as they walked to the lift. "So that's what you used to look like?" she asked him, pointing to the dark haired, goateed man in the picture.

He glanced at the picture. "Yeah, what's the matter with it?"

She shook her head. "Nothing, you just looked so... evil villain."

He snorted. "I _am_ the evil villain, Clara."

Clara shrugged. "No you're not," she retorted, pecking him on the cheek. "You may've been once, but I don't think you are anymore."

The Master rolled his eyes. "Are you sure you're not the one who needs to get her head checked out?"

She chuckled as they stepped into the lift. "Nah. Which ward do we need again?"

"I think she said 27. Or 26. Not sure which."

"Let's just start with 26," she decided, looking around, "Where're the buttons?"

He smirked. "It's the year 5,000,000,023. Everything's voice automated," he explained, "Ward 26, please."

The lift began moving, and a female voice said, "Commence stage one disinfection."

"Disinfection?" Clara asked, furrowing her brow. "What's going to happen?"

The Master shrugged. "Wait and see," he told her, just before water began falling from the ceiling, drenching them both.

Clara shrieked, clinging to the Master's arm.

"Calm down," he told her, chuckling.

She shrieked again when the soap like substance came down. "This dress is dry clean only!" she exclaimed in horror.

"Shh, it'll be fine," he assured her as the fans began to dry them off.

"No, it won't!" she insisted, "This thing isn't meant to get wet!"

He raised his eyebrows as the lift opened, shutting off the fan. "You sure about that? It looks just the same as before."

"No, it does-" Clara paused, looking down at her dress, "Oh my gosh, it's a miracle!"

He laughed as they stepped out. "See, I told you so!

Clara huffed and looked around. "You know I think it was Ward 27 we needed to be in."

He nodded, suddenly looking serious. "Yeah, I think you're right," he said, but instead of turning back to the lift, he began walking swiftly towards the center of the ward.

"What're you doing?" Clara hissed, running after him.

"I sense something psychic. And it's familiar. And it's dying," he told her.

"Considering your past, are you sure it's such a good idea to go after it?" she questioned hurriedly.

He shrugged. "Like I said, it's dying. And I'm curious."

"Any idea who it is?" she questioned.

"None."

"Exactly how many people do you know around the year 5,000,000,000?" she asked incredulously.

"Apparently, at least one."


	16. Chapter 16

The Master stopped in front of a giant head inside of a glass jar. The strange face had his eyes closed. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, completely confused.

The nurse standing by it looked surprised. "This is the Face of Boe," she told him. "Who are you, and how do you not know about the last of Boekind?"

He shrugged. "Bit out of the loop," he intoned, "I'm, uhm, Harold Saxon."

The Face of Boe slowly opened his eyes. He looked concerned by the couple standing before him. "Harold Saxon is a false name," he spoke without moving his lips, a deep voice sounding in Clara and the Master's minds.

Clara looked at him in shock, while the Master furrowed his brow. "How do you know that? I recognize you, but I can't seem to place you. Who are you?"

Instead of answering, the Face of Boe looked to Clara. "And you. So kind. So impossible. We have met thrice before, but you never remember it."

She smiled. "That's probably because you've met a few of my echoes," she explained, "I jumped into a man called the Doctor's time stream."

"The Doctor is an old friend of mine," he revealed, smiling.

The Master rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. How do we know each other?"

The Face of Boe seemed to sigh. "You are the one who calls himself Master, and I am the one who never dies for more than a minute."

The Master groaned, annoyed at the lack of clarity. He thought for a moment. "Wait... are you, erm, Jim? No, Jarvis, or, uhm, Jack, maybe, Harkness?" he asked.

"It has been many, many millennia since anybody has called me that."

"Damn. You've certainly aged... oddly," he commented.

"I have grown tired of this universe," the Face of Boe declared.

"I can tell. You've let yourself go tremendously," the Master observed, causing Clara to give him a sideways look.

"Hey! Be nice!" she urged him, which only made him roll his eyes.

"It's true, you know. He used to be what one would call handsome," he whispered to Clara.

The Face of Boe observed them with interest. "How do you live?" he asked, addressing the Master. "I saw you die and refuse to regenerate in the Doctor's arms."

Clara was shocked. "You didn't mention the part about that happening in the Doctor's arms."

He shifted awkwardly. "It, uhm, slipped my mind," he lied quickly, before turning to the Face of Boe to tell him, "And I survived because of a carefully laid plan. Some followers of mine managed to bring me back to life."

The Face of Boe didn't seem particularly happy about that. "How unfortunate," he commented.

The Master coughed. "Right then. Nice to see you. We've an appointment to keep."

"Wait," he intoned, looking from Clara to the Master, "Why are you traveling with the Doctor's friend? Is she a prisoner?" He looked about ready to kill the Master, if he had hands to do so. Although Clara wouldn't put it past him to be able to kill telepathically, considering it was the year 5,000,000,023.

"Uhm..." the Master trailed, realizing he wasn't quite sure anymore.

"Nope," Clara answered for him. "I was at first, but then I decided to stay on my own account."

The Face of Boe looked perplexed. "Why?"

"Haven't you noticed? I am _incredibly_ handsome," the Master declared.

"Obviously," he said, rolling his eyes and shocking the both of them. "The actual answer, please, Miss Oswald." He looked at Clara expectantly.

"He... he's different than he used to be," Clara explained quietly, "I, uhm, discovered he has a heart."

"Two of them!" the Master interjected. "Not sure why that's relevant though."

She chuckled, smirking at his comment. "I meant figuratively, dumbo."

"Right. I knew that," the Master said with an air of confidence.

The Face of Boe watched them, seeming to realize something. "You love him, don't you?" he spoke.

Clara glanced at the Master before realizing that only she had heard the question. "I... I don't know. I might someday," she responded in her thoughts, hoping he could hear them.

The Face of Boe smiled slightly and nodded. "I once felt as you do about somebody, many years ago. Take care, the Master is a dangerous man, but if you are right about him, I predict it will be worth all the risk."

The Master glanced between them suspiciously. "Are you two communicating?" he asked curiously.

Clara looked up. "Hmm?"

"Never mind," he said, "We should get going to Ward 27."

Clara nodded. "Yeah, of course. I'm right behind you."

The Master shrugged and started to walk away, and Clara turned back to the Face of Boe.

"Thank you," she told him with a smile, "I do think it'll be worth it."

"Good luck, Miss Oswald. I hope you are right," he said. "Farewell."

"Good bye," Clara said, turning to hurry after the Master and blowing kisses from her hand, "I wish you all the well-wishings in the world!"

The Face of Boe watched them leave, a heaviness in his heart as he remembered the past. He decided that perhaps he should contact the Doctor for one last good-bye...

* * *

Relieved that they didn't have to go through decontamination again, Clara stepped off into the 27th Ward, the Master by her side. They sat down in the fluffy white waiting room, the Master nervously tapping out the four count on his knee. Before too long had passed, a nurse walked out of a swinging door.

"A Mr. Harold Saxon, please?" she said, glancing around even though they were the only two in the room.

They both stood to follow her, but the cat eyed Clara with disdain. "Only Mr. Saxon, please," she requested.

The Master basically growled at her. "Where I go, she goes."

The nurse faked a smile. "Alright, sorry sir. Right this way," she told them through tight lips.

The couple followed her down the hall to the third door on the right. A complicated looking machine sat in the corner, next to which there was a counter, a bed, and a few chairs.

"Alright, Mr. Saxon, the doctor should be with you shortly."

"Doctor who?" he asked cautiously, which made Clara roll her eyes.

"Doctor Cassidy. She's the head of Ward 27." With that, the nurse left them, but Doctor Cassidy walked through the door a moment later.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Cassidy," the feline said kindly. "I need to ask you a few questions before I make any treatment suggestions."

The Master nodded, looking resigned. "Ok. Ask away, then."

"How long have you been hearing the drumming?"

"Since I was eight years old."

"Was there any particular traumatic event that occurred around that time?"

He snorted. "Yeah, I suppose you could call it traumatic."

"What was it?" she asked curtly.

"I looked into the bloody Untempered Schism before spending 300 years at the Prydonian Academy on Gallifrey."

She furrowed her brow. "Gallifrey? The home of the Time Lords?"

"That's the one!" he exclaimed with mock cheer.

Doctor Cassidy scribbled a note on her paper, which Clara read upside down as, 'delusional.' She scowled. "Oi, he's not delusional! What he's saying is true!"

She sighed, ignoring Clara's outburst and turning to the Master. "Do you mean to say that you are one of the Time Lords, a magnificent race that has been extinct for quite some time?"

"Wouldn't call them magnificent, but yeah, I am," he confirmed.

"The Time Lords were all wiped out in the Last Great Time War, according to history," she told him.

"Actually, we weren't. A former friend of mine tucked us away into a pocket universe. I got out."

Doctor Cassidy smiled, underlining 'delusional' and adding _very_ in front of it, which made Clara grit her teeth. "Of course. Tell me more about the drumming in your head. Is it constant, always at the same frequency?"

"Yes to the first, no to the second," he said, trying unsuccessfully to read what was written on the notepad- the feline had now propped it up so that they couldn't see it.

"Interesting..." she trailed, scribbling something else down, "Usually in cases of constant ringing, humming, etc., the patient hears it at the same frequency. Does there seem to be a pattern of outside stimuli when it gets louder?"

The Master sighed, starting to tap out the drums on his knee again. He looked to be growing agitated. "Yeah, sometimes. If I get angry or uhm, use too much energy it'll get louder. But sometimes it just does that on its own, so..."

Doctor Cassidy nodded. "Does the drumming ever keep you from going to sleep?"

"If it's especially loud, yeah," he answered. "Can't you just hook me up to some scanner so you can figure out how to remove these things? They bloody hurt too. I'm sick of it."

"They cause you physical pain?" she asked, her face suddenly written with concern.

"Yes," he snapped, "Can you help me or not?"

She breathed out slowly. "I think you may have a unique case, but yes, I believe so..." She paused for a moment in thought. "Let me have you come over here so we scan your brain and your vital signs," she said, standing up and gesturing to the machine in the corner.

The Master complied, sitting down beside it so that Doctor Cassidy could fit a light helmet over the back of his head and a couple of wires to his chest. Clara watched nervously from a few feet away.

"You'll need to remain perfectly still while the machine does its work," she instructed, hitting a few buttons on a keypad. "This should only take a few minutes."

A few minutes later, Doctor Cassidy removed the helmet and wires, instructing Clara and the Master to return to their previous seats. They did so, and she pulled up a holographic 3D model of the Master's brain. She twisted it and turned it, virtually dissecting it. When she seemed to be finished, she turned to the Master, her eyes wide in shock.

"Mr. Saxon..." she began, "your brain is extraordinary, like none other I've seen before."

"That would probably be because I'm a Time Lord," he informed her, looking smug. "Did your machine also note that I have two hearts? Bicirculatory systems are quite rare, you know."

She nodded, looking ashamed. "I realize that I may have been incorrect in my initial disbelief that you could be a Time Lord," she admitted.

The Master smirked. "Yeah, you were. And even if we were all destroyed, you'd forgotten the fact that we can travel through time. So you could have given me the ultimate spoiler by revealing my race's demise, you know."

"Yes, quite. I deeply apologize," she spoke sincerely.

He rolled his eyes. "It's all good. So can you help me?"

Doctor Cassidy shook her head. "Regretfully, no. It looks as if the drumming is a physical signal that was placed deep within your brain. It would require extremely complicated surgery to remove."

He sighed. "I knew about it being a signal. Suppose I should have mentioned that..." he trailed, pursing his lips. "So you or someone else here can't do the surgery?"

"I'm afraid not. I know little to nothing about the Time Lord brain, and there's nothing on file. We could run a few more in depth scans, and I might be able to figure out how to do it with a few years of study, but even then, there's no guarantee I wouldn't kill you with the first incision I'd make."

The Master nodded, looking slightly disturbed.

"Do you have any idea if there's anywhere in the universe somebody could do it?" Clara asked. "We've got a time machine, so if it's gone now, that's not a problem."

Doctor Cassidy thought for a moment. "Well, there's the Sisters of the Infinite Schism. They haven't existed for a few billion years, but I think they might be of help if you can travel back that far."

Clara raised her eyebrows. "Really? We were going to go to them next anyways!" she exclaimed.

"What an interesting coincidence!" Doctor Cassidy intoned, smiling, "I do hope they can be of service to your friend."

"Me too," Clara told her standing up. She nudged the Master, and he stood as well.

"Thanks," he said, nodding to the feline. She nodded in return, and Clara and the Master left the room.

"Off to the 53rd century, then?" he asked Clara with a sigh, leaning in to her kiss her cheek as they stepped onto the lift.

"We can relax for a while if you want," she offered, intertwining her fingers with his.

He smiled. "Alright. I'll set the course, but it should take some time to get there. We could sightsee a bit before going to the hospital if you'd like," he suggested, supposing she might.

A grin broke out on Clara's face. "That sounds... exceptional," she confirmed, her eyes dancing.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: (Minor SPOILERS for Into the Dalek!) I have to say, I love Danny Pink, and I feel a bit awkward because I totally ship him and Clara now heh. So this story is officially AU now, branching off just as Danny enters the picture. :)**

After spending the morning touring the Museum of Time Travel on Delta Six, Clara and the Master hopped back into their own time machine to travel the short distance to the Hospital of the Infinite Schism, staffed by the lovely Sisters of the Infinite Schism, for whom the hospital was often referred. Delta Six was located only a hundred light years away from the famous Medusa Cascade, and another, semi-closed rift existed underneath the structure of the hospital. It wasn't exactly everlasting, but it had been there for millennia and had so been named the Infinite Schism.

Landing just outside, Clara and the Master walked inside, having already made an appointment per Clara's suggestion via the Snogbox's telephone. They went straight for the lift, rising to the 23rd floor, and stepped off into a comfortable looking doctor's office.

The Master stepped up to the receptionist window and smiled as a woman in a white habit slid open the cracked glass window. "Hello!" he greeted enthusiastically, "Harold Saxon, here to see the neurology specialist."

The lady slid over a thin tablet. "You'll need to fill out these forms, and once you hand them in, it shouldn't be too long until we're ready for you," she informed him with a smile.

"Alright, thanks," he said, taking the tablet. He paused for a moment, pointing at the glass window. "In case you haven't noticed, you need to fix that," he told her not unkindly.

She looked at it, surprised. "I can't believe I didn't notice that," she said in amazement, examining the crack. "I'll tell Mother Superior as soon as my shift's done."

He nodded, satisfied, and then sat next to Clara with a huff. He didn't seem keen on doing as she had asked, and glanced at Clara as if he were about to request she fill them out instead. All she had to do to assure he didn't ask was raise her eyebrows and give him a, "Do you seriously expect me to do that?" sort of look.

She glanced over at it and read some of the questions he had to answer. Some of them were simple, like name, species, and age in Deltan years (she noticed the Master hovering over that one uncertainly before typing in '2025,' although he whispered in her ear that he was almost completely guessing), but a few were more bizarre, like 'Approximately how long has it been since you made use of Percludian dentistry, if ever?' and 'Have you ever been exposed to cloned waste product?'

Finally, the Master sighed in relief as he finished the last of the electronic forms and stood to deliver them to the receptionist. She smiled and took them, glancing over his answers before inputting a few commands, apparently sending them off to the neurology specialist. A few minutes later, they were called back and the Master and Clara were shown to a small room where they met a tall woman also dressed in a white habit.

"Greetings!" she said, beaming at them, "I am Sister Caitlin Marese, MD. You have no idea how excited I am to be able to help you."

The Master smirked, amused by her enthusiasm. "I don't guess you've had the opportunity to help a Time Lord, eh?"

She shook her head. "No, Mr. Saxon, but I have studied Time Lord biology extensively, and we have had patients in the past who were Time Lord or part Time Lord. The latest was a peculiar mix of human and Time Lord, nearly one hundred years ago. Besides Dr. Mercury, I'm the expert," she explained.

"Who's Dr. Mercury?" Clara questioned.

"He's one of the smartest men in the galaxy. We've had him consult here at the hospital before. He carries the highest degrees in the medical, archeological, and historical fields from the Luna Academy," she informed them.

"Wow," the Master intoned, "Don't tell me he's a brain surgeon, too?"

"He is, actually..." Sister Caitlin spoke, "As am I, of course. Anyway, further explain to me this drumming in your head. You said in the paperwork that you were informed that it needs to be surgically removed?"

He nodded. "Yeah. It's a signal that I uhm, received when I looked into the Untempered Schism when I was eight, in Gallifreyan years. I didn't know what it meant, or where it came from until fairly recently, but uhm, it's sort of driven me mad through the years. And it bloody hurts."

Sister Caitlin listened with rabid interest. "That's fascinating," she breathed.

"Fascinating, eh? Glad I'm of interest to you," he spoke with a dangerous calm, his eyes glinting. Clara looked at him cautiously and placed a hand on his knee, hoping he wouldn't freak out.

The sister went pale, remembering the bit about him being mad. "I am so sorry, Mr. Saxon, that's not what I meant," she said quickly, "Let me, uhm, run a few scans, and then we can determine a course of action. If you would follow me."

"Thank you," the Master said, a too wide smile returning. "That sounds _wonderful_."

She took a deep breath, faking a smile before leading the way out of the room, down the hall, and into a larger room.

As they walked, Clara gripped the Master's hand and whispered to him, "You're scaring her!"

He shrugged, whispering back, "So? If it makes her quit gawking and get to work, what's the harm in a little fear?" Clara just sighed and shook her head in response.

Sister Caitlin pointed to a softly cushioned cot connected to a machine. "Right then," she said, "If you would just lay down there, keeping perfectly still."

"Alright," the Master agreed, laying down. The cot slid into the machine of its own accord. Inside, he stared at the white walls surrounding him, glad that he wasn't claustrophobic like Drax, a member of the Deca at the Academy, had been. Five minutes later, the cot rolled out again, and he sat up, looking at Sister Caitlin expectantly.

"It'll be a second before I know anything," she warned him, looking at the Master wearily.

"That's fine," he said brightly, seeming to have forgotten his irritation from earlier. In actuality, he'd been considering Clara's reprimand, and had decided that maybe, just maybe, being nice about it would have been a better solution. Not that he'd care to admit he'd had that train of thought.

Sister Caitlin smiled a bit, looking slightly awkward as she waited for the results to show up on her tablet. Soon they did, and she began perusing them, her brow furrowed. After a few minutes, she looked up tentatively. "It looks like I'm going to need several hours to study all of this," she explained, "And I also have other patients to see to today. Would you mind coming back tomorrow?"

"Well-" the Master began, but Clara cut him off.

"Not at all," she said, "What time is good for you?"

Sister Caitlin smiled, visibly relieved. "I have a slot open at ten o'clock and sixteen o'clock."

Clara smiled. "Ten o'clock sounds perfect."

* * *

Ten o'clock the next day rolled around the fast way, in about three minutes for the Master and Clara. Sister Caitlin met them in her office, circles under her eyes and an uneasy frown on her face.

"So, bad news then?" the Master asked, taking one look at her.

She nodded. "Your previous informant was correct in saying the signal in your brain needs to be surgically removed. Despite spending the entire night practicing on a 3D representation of your brain, I couldn't figure out how to do it without killing you in the process."

The Master nodded. "I understand. Do you think Dr. Mercury, the man you mentioned before, could do it?"

At this, her eyes teared up. "I-I think he could, but... but we received news of his untimely death this morning," she informed them, blinking rapidly in an attempt not to let her emotions get the best of her.

While the Master cursed under his breath, Clara covered it by saying, "We're so sorry for your loss. Were the two of you close?"

She nodded. "Yes. He was my mentor. I hadn't seen him for several years, but he was supposed to come teach a class to the younger sisters in a few months, and we-we were going to have lunch-" Her voice caught, and she swallowed deeply. "Apologies, I am not being professional."

Clara put a hand on her shoulder. "It's fine, no worries. I've lost important people too; I know how you feel."

She nodded, and then she seemed to realize something. "You're a Time Lord!" she suddenly exclaimed, looking at the Master. "You can travel through time and get his help in the past! He was here five years ago, in the middle of July."

He nodded, thinking. "Indeed, but I'm afraid I can't come here to see him. You already said that your latest Time Lord-esque patient was nearly one hundred years ago, and since I already know I wasn't a patient five years ago, I can't go back," he explained, frowning, "But I could contact him outside of the hospital."

"Right, that makes sense," she agreed, "Unfortunately though, he likes-liked, to stay off the grid as much as possible. But I did hear about him sponsoring a ball at the Singing Towers of Derillium about six months ago."

The Master smiled, and nudged Clara. "I guess we'll be attending a ball, then."

Sister Caitlin coughed. "It was invite only, so you may have trouble getting in."

"We've got psychic paper, so it shouldn't be a problem," Clara answered.

A wide grin lit her face. "That is absolutely fantastic," she said, handing over a binder. "This is all the information from Mr. Saxon's scans so that he doesn't have redo them."

"Thanks!" Clara spoke, taking it and tucking it comfortably under her arm.

"Thanks for all your help," the Master voiced when Clara nudged him in the ribs.

"Please give him my best," Sister Caitlin requested as they made their way out of the room.

"We won't forget," Clara assured her, lifting a hand to wave goodbye.

As soon as they were out of the hallway and onto the lift, Clara glanced at the Master and started giggling. "We're going to a ball!" she exclaimed excitedly, unable to contain herself.

He grinned and leaned in to peck her on the lips. "I do love a good ball. And knowing the planet of Derillium, it is sure to be superb," he informed her, and superb it would be, he decided, as long as the infectiously joyful Clara was right by his side. He was beginning to feel that he never wanted to be parted from her, and though these thoughts frightened him, they thrilled him beyond belief.

**A/N: Just out of curiosity - how many people actually read author's notes? I enjoy reading them myself, but I'm curious... So if you read this and generally read other author's notes, mention it in your review! :)**


	18. Chapter 18

Clara spent nearly an hour in the Snogbox's enormous wardrobe room the next afternoon, trying on and searching for the perfect ball gown to wear. The Master hadn't taken nearly as long - he'd taken one look at a fine black suit, complete with bow-tie, (Clara had to cover her mouth to keep from giggling when saw it) and decided it was perfect. He couldn't understand why it took Clara so long to decide on a floor length midnight blue dress, with a rhinestone necklace and heels, but when she walked into the console room, the medical binder Sister Caitlin had given them stored in a bigger-on-the-inside silver clutch he'd given her, the Master had to admit to himself that it had been well worth the wait.

He hopped up from his perch on one of the benches and swallowed hard, his eyes quickly lilting down and then back up again. "Wow. You look stunning," he breathed, and then coughed, mumbling in an attempt to sound nonchalant, "for a human, anyway."

Clara grinned at first, and then tilted her head, frowning a little. "Thanks. I think."

He breathed out slowly. "S-sorry, you're just so... Wow," he said, his twin hearts beating fast. "You look amazing. For any species ever."

She laughed, enjoying how nervous he looked. "Thank you. And you look great yourself. I love the bow tie," she giggled, biting her lip and thinking of the irony in him wearing the Doctor's favorite article of clothing.

He shrugged, going back to his regular, self-assured manner. "Of course I look great. I always dress for the occasion, you know," he told her, drawing out the "s" on the end of "dress."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you do."

He responded by taking her hand in his and kissing it. "The Royal Ballroom, housed at the bottom of one of the seven Singing Towers, on the planet of Derillium, is right outside this door. Are you ready, m'dear?"

Clara blushed at the term of endearment. "Why of course, kind sir," she answered, trying to sound posh.

"Kind?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow and speaking in the same manner, "Why ever would you say that?"

She laughed gently and rose up on her toes to kiss him on the lips. "No reason at all," she said, smiling. He smiled back at her widely and leaned down for another quick kiss. And then another. And another. Finally, Clara had to push him away softly. "Now now, didn't I hear we had a ball to attend?"

"I think I need one more kiss before we go out there. Y'know, for good luck," he said, tilting his head and looking at her sideways.

She rolled her eyes and pecked him on the lips once more before intertwining her fingers in his and pulling him to the door. "C'mon!" she said, excitement bubbling through her veins.

He grinned and fixed his bow-tie, earning another unexplained giggle, before they walked out the door.

They passed security by pretending to be the Duchess and Duke of Sirius IV. Even though there wasn't actually a duchess or duke on that particular colony, the psychic paper was convincing enough to get them through, to their great relief.

Clara looked around the ballroom in awe. Ten diamond encrusted chandeliers hung from the gold plated ceiling. Servers rushed around the room, handing out glasses of what she assumed was champagne. The towers were singing quietly in beautiful, alien voices, and the dance floor was littered with people – Humans, Vinvocci, Draconians, Silurians, and other species she couldn't even guess the names of. "Wow," she murmured, unable to utter anything else.

"Wow indeed," the Master agreed, although he was looking at her instead of the room around him.

Clara looked at him a grin. "Do you know how dance to this music? I certainly don't," she informed him, watching the other couples move around the room.

He nodded. "It's called the Martian Waltz."

"Did the Ice Warriors come up with it?" she questioned curiously – the one she'd met on that Russian submarine certainly hadn't seemed like the kind to waltz.

He shook his head. "Nope. It's actually named for Yolanda Martia. She was a half-human noblewoman of the 42nd century who especially enjoyed dance."

Clara chuckled. "How do you know all that?"

"I took a class in Academy about cultures and forms of dance through the centuries," he told her, "I think dancing's a thrill."

She smiled, loving that about him. "How about you teach me this Martian Waltz, eh?"

The Master responded by bowing. "It would be my pleasure," he intoned, leading her onto the corner of the dance floor. "Just follow my lead."

"Okay," she responded softly, allowing him to take her by the waist with one hand. When she correspondingly put her hand on his shoulder, he gently used his other hand to position her arm so that it was hanging daintily in the air. She raised her eyebrows, thinking about how her arm would get tired, but decided just to go with it as he took her other hand and put it on his waist before proceeding to position his remaining arm in the same manner he'd put hers. Clara laughed as they began to move, and he gently showed her the other strange and elaborate moves of the Martian Waltz, a huge grin on his face the whole time – he was obviously enjoying being able to teach her this intriguing dance. After having slowly gone through the whole process a few more times, they moved to a more populated area of the floor, dancing in sync with everybody else.

When the Martian Waltz finally ended after about fifteen minutes, Clara and the Master were both out of breath. "I'll get us some champagne," he offered.

"That sounds wonderful," Clara agreed. "I'll meet you over by those bushes; I need to use the loo."

He nodded and grinned before disappearing into the crowd. Clara then proceeded to weave through the people to the edge of the hall where she had seen a sign she supposed might mean bathrooms. Passing a group of chatting Malmooths, she stared at them for a moment, the name "Chantho" coming to mind, as well as a feeling of ill-boding. Clara coughed and shook her head, continuing on her way, deciding that perhaps one of her echoes had had a bad encounter involving a Malmooth.

Entering the expansive bathroom, she couldn't help but grin. Ornate designs covered the tiles that covered the room from ceiling to floor, although she noticed that one of the ceiling tiles had a long, thin crack in it. The sinks were wide and basin like, with sterling silver faucets that let out rainbow colored water. After using the facilities, Clara approached the sinks, running her hands under the rainbow water and realizing that she didn't need the soap she had looked around furtively for – apparently, it was included in the water. "Wow," she murmured yet again, earning a chuckle from the woman washing her hands at the next faucet. Clara glanced up at her, nearly falling over in shock when she recognized the face under the mass of curls.

"You alright, Clara?" sang the voice of Professor River Song, who didn't seem surprised to see her.

Clara coughed. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just wasn't expecting to see you here. How do you know me yet? I-I think we first met after this for you, unless something huge happened, and you're, well-"

River cut her off. "Ah-ah-ah, no spoilers, Clara. The Doctor ought to have taught you that already."

Clara sighed. "Okay, fine, but at least vaguely tell me when you first met me so I know what I can and can't say."

River smirked. "There you go, that's the right question to be asking. By the looks of it, it's in your future. The Doctor was extremely surprised to see me, and now I realize why you had a smug smile on your face at the time, and… he wasn't on a bow-tie day."

"What do you mean the Doctor wasn't on a bow-tie day? He's never not on a bow-tie day. He adores those things."

River shrugged. "Spoilers," she murmured.

And then Clara's eyes went wide. "He regenerated, didn't he?"

She sighed. "Yes, but keep your lips shut about it. He doesn't realize he can do it again yet."

Nodding, Clara agreed. "Fair enough. Are you here with him then? The next one?"

River shook her head. "No, I'm with bow-tie man before he's met you. How are you here? I can't imagine him taking you somewhere he knows he's already been on the same day he's there."

Clara went white, a pit forming in her stomach. "Oh… oh no," she muttered.

"What is it? What's wrong?" River asked hurriedly.

She swallowed. "I'm here with an old friend turned enemy of the Doctor. If the Doctor sees him…" she trailed, unsure of just what would happen.

River nodded, understanding the severity of the situation, although she couldn't imagine what Clara was doing with an enemy of the Doctor's. "Who are you with?" she questioned.

Clara shifted awkwardly before answering. "He, uhm, calls himself the Master."

"You're here with the Master?" River asked flatly, "Are you his prisoner?"

"No, of course not," she said hurriedly, "I mean, I was, but things have changed. I think we might be dating, although we haven't exactly talked about relationship labels."

River nodded. Normally she would have been more worried, but considering she'd met Clara in future, she knew that she wouldn't come to any serious harm. "Right. I'll keep the Doctor on the east side. We were about to go out to the gardens anyway, so I'll hurry him along to that. You keep the Master on the west side," she instructed.

"Sounds like a plan," Clara agreed, smiling and walking towards the door before turning back to face River, who was drying her hands. "I'll see you in the future then, River," she said with a grin.

"And I the opposite," River intoned, a grin on her face as well. "Good luck with the Master."

She nodded, her eyes sparkling. "I hope you have a splendid time in the gardens with the Doctor."

River winked. "I plan too."

Clara just chuckled and walked out the door with a little wave, quickly winding her way to the bush where she'd promised to meet the Master. She found him there chatting with an older man, a glass of shimmering champagne in each hand.

When the Master saw Clara arrive at his side, his face broke into a grin and he handed her a glass before snaking his arm around her waist.

"Hey you," she said brightly, smiling up at him and taking a sip.

"Clara!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Willem Mercury." He gestured to the man before him. "Dr. Mercury, this is my companion, the lovely Clara Oswald."

Dr. Mercury nodded to Clara. "Lovely indeed. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"And I you," she responded, wondering if the Master had gotten to the topic of the day yet. That question was soon answered by Dr. Mercury's next words.

"I hear you have a binder for me to look at?" he asked conversationally.

Clara nodded, beginning to open her clutch, but he quickly stopped her.

"Oh no, no, not here. If you will follow me to the conference room upstairs, we can discuss possible procedures to cure Mr. Saxon's ailment."

And discuss they did, in the ornate conference room Dr. Mercury led them to on the second floor, for nearly an entire hour. It was mostly the Master and Dr. Mercury speaking, with Clara watching from the sidelines and only understanding about half of what was said. Finally, to Clara's great relief, they reached a decision, scheduling an appointment for Dr. Mercury to perform the risky, experimental surgery in three weeks' time in his relatively unknown, at least to the rest of the galaxy, advanced private practice on the planet of Barcelona.

As they left his office to return to the ballroom below, Clara gripped the Master's hand, looking worried. He glanced down at her, furrowing his brow. "What's wrong?"

She bit her lip, glancing at him uncertainly. "Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, it's fairly dangerous. I… I don't want to lose you, especially when it might not even work."

The Master swallowed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Weren't you listening, Clara? He said he's eighty-seven percent sure he'll be able to pull it off without a problem."

"Yeah, but what about the thirteen percent chance you'll die on the operating table?" she shot back.

The Master really did roll his eyes this time, although he was touched by her worry. "If I die, I'll regenerate. Now quit worrying about it," he insisted.

Still not quite sure, Clara just nodded, holding his hand slightly tighter. He smiled a little and squeezed it reassuringly as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and he pulled her onto to the dance floor once again.

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm really sorry for the long wait for the chapter, and I'm afraid I have a little bit of bad news... I don't know when I'll be updating next either. I am super duper busy with college right now and I haven't been able to find much time to write and edit. :( I fully intend to finish this story though - I have three chapters written ahead that need editing (chapter 19, of course, being the one that needs the most editing), and then probably about four more chapters to write. **

**To at least partially make up for the potentially long wait, I'm going to be messaging a preview of chapter 19 to everyone who reviews (unless you're a guest reviewer, since I can't pm guests). Not sure when I'll send it, but it'll obviously be before I update. Thanks for reading my story guys, I really do appreciate the fact that so many people (I generally get over 200 views per chapter) enjoy my storytelling enough to keep reading after the first chapter. :)**


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